The Complications of Dying While You're Alive
by FivePips
Summary: John and Sherlock both navigate their lives and feelings after Reichenbach. Reviews appreciated
1. Chapter 1

**John. June 30****th**

I looked at my mobile sitting on the table, wanting it to ring. I'm not sure why though because it'd be about him.

I begun to think maybe I needed to solve something because I'm starting to feel like, ah, well like he used to feel. I was getting antsy but a case won't fix me. I'm crazy to think it would do anything other than make me hurt more.

He'd pace around the house _begging_ me to find him a case in the papers while he fidgeted away on his phone. _Check the papers John! I need something! I need a case John! Find me a case!_

I miss it.

It still hurts to think about him. It's only been 2 weeks though. That's normal. I can't even bring myself to say his name. But I can't stop thinking about him even though it feels like a punch to the gut with each memory. I can still feel him around me. I'm not even on Baker Street and I can still feel him around. I wanted it to go away but if it went away then I might forget what he feels like and would never be able to remember.

I didn't go to the funeral, I moved out of 221B that day instead and into Harry's spare bedroom. She's stopped drinking, for now-she swears. I couldn't be in London anymore.

"Maybe…you should…"

"Get a job?" I finished her sentence.

"I was going to say a hobby, maybe writing more? Write something about Sherlock, prove that Moriarty was the fake one."

I just looked at her.

"Ok." Harry tucked her fringe behind her right ear. "I'm just trying to help you mourn." She shut her laptop.

"I've mourned."

"You haven't!" She snapped.

"Bloody hell." I muttered.

"Sorry, I'm just worried about you."

"Don't be."

"You're falling to pieces. I can see it. It's like you've been through war all over again."

No, it was like I was home from the war all over again.

I stood up from her sofa, moving towards the stairs. I had enough telly for the day and enough of her judgment.

"You love him John."

I pinched the bridge of my nose, "Even you think we were-ah-ah-a couple. Everyone, always-" I cut myself off.

"I never said that, John." She shook her head.

I walked up the stairs to my room.

I shut the door behind me and clicked through the contacts on my phone.

There's no one I could call. Everyone wants to talk about him but I can't, not anymore. Harry is enough and she's just too much.

I went into the closet. Hidden behind my own clothes was his long black coat. The one he always wore. The one he wore with the collar flipped up to his cheekbones, with his legs pulled to his chest, watching the crap telly I thought I turned him on to saying; _…he's not the boy's father,_ _look at the turn ups on his genes_, amongst other deductions he made of these people on screen.

That's the night I got a bomb strapped to my chest because of him. He did save me but it was his fault.

This was the one he wore that day he decided to be selfish and give up. There's still blood on it. It's dark, almost brown, not very red. It almost blends but I can see it. Molly gave it to me afterwards she said it was for _safekeeping_. Safekeeping of what? He's gone. He always said she was terrible at making conversation.

We really could have fixed this. I know him, he can fix anything and I can help him.

Could. He could have fixed it. I would have helped.

I pulled it on and lie down in my bed, moving my finger on the red stitching. "Come back." I whispered. "Please."

With the coat pulled around me it feels like he's here and like he's hugging me like I-no, I'm not going there. But I smell him and feel him and feel like something is here to keep my feet on this earth. It makes me feel like I'm not alone. He made me feel that I was not alone. The coat's all that's left.

I replayed the phone call in my head everyday, wondering if there's something that I missed because I always miss things with him.

_I'm sorry. I'm a fake. This is my note._

There was a knock on my door and in one motion I got the coat off and tossed it on the floor on the other side of the bed. "What is it?" I shouted.

"Do you want some tea?" Harry poked her head in.

"No." I lie back down, facing away from her.

"Sorry, about earlier." Earlier? How long had I been in bed?

"Yeah…what time is it?"

"5."

4 hours. I have zero concept of time anymore.

She stood in the doorway for a second like she wanted to have a conversation but then shut it and walked away. I reached my hand out for the coat and had a flash back to me standing on the street, looking up at him on top of St. Barts. I reached out for him but I couldn't grab him. I couldn't save him.

I recoiled my hand and took a sharp breath, the memory hurt more than I thought it would. I relive the phone call every day but to relive the images, that's another story.

To see him jump and just keep falling and falling until I'm there in front of him and my hands are covered in his blood. His piercing blue eyes are hollow and dead. The blood is soaking his unruly hair. I just couldn't think of that.

I got up and went to the bathroom down the hall to heave.

**Sherlock. Meanwhile.**

"It's utterly repulsive." Mycroft shifted his weight from his left leg to his right leg. Clearly uncomfortable in the hotel room I had him book for me. "You can stay at my home, there's plenty of space."

"It's a fine hotel, not 221B, but it will do. I won't impose on you." I placed the skull nightstand.

"Here's the file on Moran." Mycroft held out the thick beige file. His fingers have still had grease on them from his lunch. There goes his diet again.

"Where is he?"

"He's like a ghost, as bad as Moriarty."

I waved my hand and then gripped the file. Clearly I have to do these things on my own. Moran is now the most dangerous man in England since he has taken over, it Moriarty's web. No wonder my brother cant do this simple task.

"John isn't getting on very well."

"John will be fine, he's fully capable to deal with death."

"He hasn't left his sister's house since he moved in. He didn't even attend the funeral."

"So?"

"That's what normal people do to mourn, Sherlock."

I shrugged then went look at the file in my hand. Even after you kill the queen bee the others still thrive. There were others doing the dirty work for Moriarty just as the worker bees did for the queen. I needed to get rid of the entire hive.

After Moriarty died 18 days previous things began to unravel in his little organisation. Moran made the power grab a couple of days ago. He's fairly clever, not like Moriarty but smart enough. Smarter than most of the thugs. Former soldier, served in Afghanistan, and was dishonourably discharged. He's an expert marksman. I think maybe he and John would get on if Moran weren't on the wrong side of things. John would say that this is a crazy thought because people supposedly can't bond over things like shooting other people. Which is odd to me because the skill level of both of them is magnificent, you would think bonding could be done over this topic.

"Please do let me know where you're going to be off to my dear brother."

He was the one that was sent to shoot John.

"I have to be going now, I'll see you?" He was running late for a meeting.

"Yes, yes, good bye Mycroft." I sat on the chair in front of the desk in the corner of the room.

"You really should tell John."

"For what reason?"

"He can help you get to Moran."

"I need to do this on my own. They could be watching John, making sure I'm dead. If I'm not dead they could kill John right away."

"I tend to forget you have a heart."

"We all have hearts Mycroft, we wouldn't be alive without them."

"The metaphorical one."

"You mean I'm capable of caring?"

"You're very capable, you even love him." He said the word love as if it was a foreign concept to me.

"Love is merely a chemical reaction"

"Have you ever thought maybe it would be ok to let that happen? I have at times, there's not much wrong with companionship if you can find the right person. John would be good for you, he understands the Holmes' way of things."

"Mummy would be proud if one of her boys settled down, wouldn't she?" I said with a laugh.

"I'm going." Mycroft checked his watch.

"Why are you having John followed?" I asked before he could move.

"For the same reasons you're not letting him on the case I assume, for your sake."

I rolled my eyes. "I thought caring was not an advantage."

"It's not but John is very useful in pressing medical matters, I might ask him to come work for me if you're not using him."

"He'll turn you down, you've tried that before."

"That was to help me watch you."

"Yes…why don't you get going now Mycroft? I have to look over this file with out distraction. Plus you're going to be very late for that meeting."

He said something else but I ignored him and he finally left.

I'm not sure what's wrong with me because I'm having trouble concentrating no matter what I do. This has never happened to me before. I have noticed it happens after I talk about John to someone else. But why would his name bring up such a horrible block? He's quite the conductor of brilliance so he normally does expand my mind rather than close it. I could just be missing him. I've never really missed anyone before. This is odd and new. It needs to stop though so I can end all this as fast as possible and go back to my life because dying has been a lot more difficult than I had perceived.


	2. Chapter 2

**John. August 2nd, 2012.**

Harry officially drove me crazy enough to leave her house and get a job back in London. I found a nice little flat down the way from the surgery. I worked steady hours. I didn't go anywhere close to Baker Street. I was eating three meals every day and I never got take away from our old place. I watched telly and I read books that had nothing to do with mysteries.

I've managed to stay somewhat sane. The first month was the worst, everything I did triggered a memory from the day he jumped and left me forever.

But after that I've been able to get on most days of the week without crumbling to pieces. I stick to a routine. Routines don't hurt because I've made everything so that I don't have to run into things that remind me of him. Sometimes I even find it hard to drink tea because I know it will send me into the foetal position on my bed wrapped up in his coat.

I thought about burning the coat. Maybe that's what really makes me crumble. But it's not. The coat is the only thing that keeps me sane when I really think about it. He gave me new meaning in my life and this coat is the last shred of him that I have left.

I stayed away from anyone who would want to talk about him, aside from Mike. I knew he would like to talk about him but he didn't because he seems to know that it would really hurt me. But today was different.

"Have you been to Sherlock's grave?"

"Once, ah, with Mrs. Hudson when I came back to London."

It was horrible. I tried to tell him everything but I couldn't and I ended up feeling like an arse. I almost cried too. In the open. Seeing his grave, black with gold writing made everything real. I'm sure he hates that the Holmes buried him. He'd make a remark about how bodies just decay and it's stupid just to buy an expensive coffin and gravestone to be remembered. He probably would have hated his own funeral. Sentiment. I'm sure if he could have seen me at his headstone he'd tell me I was wasting my time because dead people can't communicate.

"That's good." Mike nodded. "Saw Greg the other day, told me to ask you to give him a ring to get a pint."

I just took a drink of my water.

"He was wondering if you made any progress proving Sherlock was the real thing?"

"Progress?" The word almost stuck in my throat.

"That's what we all thought you were doing when you were at your sister's."

I just looked down at my plate.

"You know, we thought you were doing some research."

I shook my head.

"I'm sorry…if I…"

"You thought I was trying to show that he was real?" I pressed my palms onto the table.

"Yes…Greg, Molly, anyone I ran into who knows you and Sherlock."

"Knew Sherlock." I corrected him and realised this was the first time I spoke his name in 2 months. "Knew him." I pushed my plate to the centre of the table and left without another word.

On my way back to the flat I caught a tall lanky figure out of the corner of my eye. He was all torso and legs and sharp edges, just like…just like…him. I turned around quickly just to see the stranger's worn in trainers and tight jeans disappear behind a wall. I limped as quickly as I could over to the corner where I saw him go. There was nothing but an alley way between offices, a dead end. I stood and looked around. My eyes just played ticks on me. It wasn't him. The man who it was didn't turn down here either. My eyes were just playing tricks on me. I'm just stressed out. It's nothing.

As I started to walk I could still hear my heart racing in my chest. I needed to calm down. I needed to get home. I needed to turn my TV. I needed to sit down. I needed to have a glass of water. I needed to remember that I'm ok.

I'm ok.

I'm ok. Not long til I'm home now.

"Luminous." I heard someone say in the crowd. It wasn't his voice. Maybe it was in my head. It was apart of a totally different conversation. But who the fuck says luminous in everyday conversation? He did. It was like he was stuck in the Victorian era. He and Mycroft were like characters in an old novel that were fully capable to function in modern times.

I used to be his conductor of light, apparently. Though I was not luminous. He was.

I looked up and I was at the end of Baker Street. I'm not sure how I ended up here. I've been holding myself together and now, one mention of his name, I fell into disarray?

I jumped on the tube and arrived at my flat within 20 minutes because I can't be bothered to take a cab. No cabs, not when I'm in this state. I haven't taken a cab in ages. We used to take them all the time, I don't understand where his endless supply of money came from but he always managed to pay. Unless if he gave all his money to one of the homeless women for an errand.

I had a hard time climbing the steps from the underground and when I reached the top I'm completely winded. "Are you ok?" A woman in a business suit asked me.

"I'm-yeah." I nodded.

I'm ok.

"You sure?" She squinted at me.

"Yes, sorry…ah I have to go." I limped away. The woman was pretty and blonde. If I weren't in this state I probably would have asked her to dinner.

I made it home alive and took a few deep breathes before even opening my door.

I stood in the middle of the living room, "Don't you know that I need you to function just like you needed me to help with your genius?" I asked out loud to no body, he wasn't going to answer me.

I just felt like I was in some sort of tailspin. I put the kettle on and went to my room for the coat, hoping it will remind the part of my brain that's losing it what reality is.

"I hate you." I pulled the coat around me tight in the middle of my bed. "You shouldn't have fucking left me Sherlock, I need you." The tears escaped the corners of my eyes.

"Why the fuck did you do this?"

Silence still.

"You're such an arrogant arse!"

I sucked in some more air.

"If you think I'll find something deeper in this I fucking won't, you bloody well know my deduction skills."

I wiped my eyes.

"How do I prove you're not a fake? Where do I start?" I whispered.

My phone vibrated in my pocket.

_Please meet me in front of your flat in 30 -Mycroft Holmes_

I instantly deleted it and my mind drifted to the first night he crawled into bed with me, he crawled into bed with me every so often because I don't think it felt strange him to sleep next to another man who he wasn't dating. It was just something he did.

Well it was 2am that first night but he just had to tell me the news about the case, which we were working on. He was so close to me and I was so scared because I thought he might actually kiss me or touch me. There was this sexual tension that I couldn't shake. But he knew nothing about physical relationships and he never kissed me that night or any other night he crawled into bed. But I didn't feel this tension just when he was in bed with me. I felt it when we were sitting on the couch and our feet or thighs touched. Or when I'd pass close to him in the kitchen. Or when he'd rest his chin on my shoulder while looking over it to read my blog.

At first I was scared then I was oddly comforted then I felt weird about it because I thought I would like it if he kissed me. How the fuck could I like it? I didn't like men. I still don't. But I do think about what would have happened if he kissed me. Would I have punched him? Would I have just stood there in shock? Would I have kissed him back? I've played each scenario out in my head.

If I punched him he would have run away, went out into the night. I probably would have only seen glimpses of him around the flat. He would have started doing cocaine or heroin again. If I just stood there it would have been awkward but I would have somehow played it off and he would have followed my lead because that was what he normally did in situations that average people like me deal with. If I kissed him back…thinking about it makes my stomach feel light. I would have kissed him and he would have tasted spicy like cigarettes and tea. I would have pulled away and he would have smiled at me looking to see if I enjoyed it. He would have deduced that I did and he would have kissed me again.

And again.

And again.

And then…then…then I can't think about it any more. When I'm awake at least.

When I'm sleeping my mind makes me see myself splaying my fingers across his milky white skin. Biting at his neck and leaving a red mark. Him weaving his fingers together with mine while we're sitting on the couch watching a movie. Kissing his forehead before I go to sleep. Him working his way down my body to…

I shut the thought down when I'm awake, each time. I can't go any further. I'm straight. I love women. I don't love him. He was just my best mate.

I pulled the coat around me as tight as possible and closed my eyes.

**Sherlock.**

"He's talking to himself now Sherly." Mycroft would be sitting in my hotel room waiting for me on the one day I decided to go out and walk about London. "You were following him around all day, sure this has something to do with it."

"He didn't see me."

"John's quite observant when it comes to you, I'm sure he knew you were around."

I sank into the chair by the desk.

"You look like you did right before John came along."

"Hmm?" I cocked an eyebrow at my brother.

"You know what I'm talking about. You're very hollow."

"If you're talking about what I believe you're talking about this was not right before John, this was years before John. 2.25 years before John was the last time." I sometimes wonder how John would have felt about my previous drug habits. I know Mycroft told him at one point because they were all so concerned after Irene and John moved my socks around looking for something other than socks. If I were using cocaine or heroin again I wouldn't keep it with my socks.

"Cocaine is not the answer to open up your mind and help you find Moran. I can't risk you sleeping out on the streets."

"I won't be sleeping rough anytime soon." I ran my hand through hair.

"You still don't need to do drugs."

"John's talking to himself?"

"Yes he-"

"You bugged his new flat?" I made it sound like I was in shock even though I was not. It just saddened me that my best friend has zero privacy.

"Of course!"

"And you're having him followed still. I saw two of your men. It won't take him much longer to notice that these imbeciles are following him."

"Not if you're following, he'll be too preoccupied thinking his partner is back from the dead or he's gone completely crazy." My brother stood up. "Would it be wrong if I gave him a push in the right direction to prove that you weren't a fraud?"

"No, I already have Greg started on that." I waved my hand.

"Lestrade knows?"

"No but I made sure I made it clear as day to where he needs to be heading."

"Oh, well, John has to be doing something useful. He can't stay home crying everyday. I think he should write something for a paper, public opinion will be swayed with his feelings."

"He cries everyday?" I furrowed my brow.

"Not everyday but quite often. Today he was a mess when he got home-because of you."

I closed my eyes. Mycroft breathing was a bit laboured; he needs to lose some more weight. The floorboards creaked under his feet as he walked towards the door. "Good luck in Latvia." He said before he left.

My phone rang and I answered it without thinking, "What is it?"

"Oh, hi…Sherlock…I didn't think I'd catch you-" Molly Hooper's pretty voice stammered.

"Molly what could you possibly want?"

"Sorry, ah, I just wanted to tell you I finally got your beakers and some other equipment you had at 221B…"

"Oh, thank you, yes."

"Thank you?" She says like she's utterly shocked.

"Well yes, that is what people say when others do something for them if I'm not mistaken."

"You're rarely-kind."

"Mmm, have you seen John?"

"No, would you like me to check on him?"

"Ah-ye-na-ah if you think it's necessary." I decided that it felt like the right thing to say.

"I do and I will, I'll do that tomorrow for you."

I sat up in my chair, "Tell him…not to be so sad."

"Sherlock, people can't just stop being sad over someone that they've lost, someone who they loved very much."

"Love is-"

"Shut up Sherlock, stop it. You love John and you know you do, you're just scared. When you stayed here the night after you ah, jumped, I heard you crying."

I don't like crying but for some reason I felt very emotional after the fall. I was leaving my whole life behind and I won't know until everything is over if I'll ever be able to return to it. My brain was just having some type of response to losing my old way of life. I've adjusted though because that's what the human body does.

"Sorry." Molly muttered. "I'll talk to you later."

I hung up.

I still think about John often. After seeing him I'm thinking about him even more. This has never happened to me before.

Do I have "crush"? That's what I've heard it called. I can see where they get the slang word from because there is a rather "crushing" feeling when you think about someone you enjoy being with but you can't have them in your life everyday or you can't tell them how you feel.

This is stupid.

Feeling this loss for 2 months now is ridiculous. How does this help the body? It doesn't. I read everything and it seems loss tends to hinder things from getting done. There are instances where it can drive people to achieve various activities but I'm not sure how. Every so often I feels as if I suffer from a drop in my serotonin levels.

That's only real explanation I have, I'm suffering from a chemical imbalance. I'm sure a therapist would put me on anti-depressants.


	3. Chapter 3

**John. October 5th.**

I stood at the corner watching the young girl play her beat up violin. Her fingers didn't move quite as gracefully as his but her music sounded beautiful. I felt like this was a step because in the 4 months before I would never be able to listen to someone play the violin without having a breakdown. "She's rather good." The lady next to me said after the violinist finished her arrangement.

"Huh?" It took me a second to realise she was speaking to me. "Oh, yeah, she is." Normally when random people on the street try to speak to me it's about him and I just avoid them.

"I'm sorry, I don't normally talk to people on the street." She smiled. "But you look familiar. I didn't ask you if you were ok about 2 months ago did I? By the underground, right there?" She pointed to the stop and it all came back to me.

"Oh, yeah, you did." I smiled. "Bad day that day."

"I'm Mary." She stuck her hand out.

"John, nice to meet you Mary." I shook her hand as the crowd and the musician began to disperse.

"Your face stuck with me for some reason, it was so…"

"Sad?"

The corners of her mouth turned down, "Yeah, I was a little worried. I thought about what might have happened to you."

I nodded and looked down the street, "I was getting over losing my best-ah-mate."

"I'm so sorry."

I nodded, "Ah, thank you." I never know what to say. I could feel visions of our time together creeping in. I needed to stop them.

"Well…I should…get going?"

It's been so long since I wanted to go on a date but maybe it was finally time, maybe it would stop these thoughts. I've made it a whole week without ending up in bed thinking about him. "Would you fancy a bite to eat? It is dinner time." I glanced at my watch.

A smile stretched across her face. "I would love that. I know a place near here."

"I'm completely open to suggestions."

"Fantastic."

After we got our drinks delivered to the table, "What is it that you do?" I asked.

"I'm the manager at The Hotel Langham."

"Posh." I laughed.

"It's rather appalling." She grinned. "What about you?"

"I'm a doctor, work at the surgery down the street here."

"That's cool." Mary rested her chin on her hand. "Your last name is Watson, isn't it?"

John's stomach sank. "Yeah."

"I thought you looked familiar before." Mary had a hint of recognition on her face.

"Right, right."

"Was…he?"

"Real? Yeah."

She nodded. "You're supposed to be a confirmed bachelor though." She chuckled.

"I'm still unsure of what that exactly means or entails…"

"Dating a lot of women maybe?"

"That could be it."

"Did you…date a lot of women?"

"He-Sherlock tended to scare my dates off."

She gave me a funny face.

"He was so smart, he didn't function like the rest of us and depended on me for a lot so…they got scared."

"Oh."

"And his brother…he's a lot like h-Sherlock." His name still hurt to say. "But he's more functioning, he just runs the British government and he always had me watching over Sherlock." If this didn't scare her off I don't know what will.

"But you liked it?"

I thought for a second, "Yeah, I liked helping him solve cases. Especially the kidnappings we did because they were all happy endings." Except the one that began his fall.

Mary leaned forward, "You seem happy now."

I did?

"It's good you don't miss him as much."

But I still do miss, maybe I'm just getting used to hiding it.

"So, what do you do for fun Doctor?"

I took a drink, "Watch crap telly…read." I used to solve crimes for fun.

"You don't get out much?"

"Not, really."

"Oh that's too bad, you should change that."

"Well I'm out now."

"Good."

The rest of the date went phenomenally. We exchanged numbers and as soon as I got home I checked to see when the next time I could possibly meet with her.

But two things were sticking with me. For one she said that I seem happy. I don't know why that made me sad. Maybe I feel like I should be mourning him forever. Then the other was "confirmed bachelor". I never thought too much about it but I wasn't a bachelor, I was Sherlock's partner. People insinuated that we were more than work partners and they were right. We just didn't have a physical relationship. We may as well have been married. We were positively domestic. I would cook, clean, do dishes, and go shopping while he worked like I was a wife in the 1950's.

I did everything for him. It was like if I walked away him, his entire life would be in disarray. There's no doubt in my mind that before I came along he had many problems being somewhat healthy. Most days I had to force him to eat. He'd go days on end without sleeping which drove me crazy. It's no wonder why none of my girlfriends ever lasted when he was around. I was married already.

I wonder what he would think of Mary. Too nice, too tired, she's hiding something, she broke her elbow when she was five…I don't know something absurd and out of nowhere that I would never pick up on.

I would like to think that in the end he'd like her. But he didn't like many normal people. Myself, Mrs. Hudson, Greg, and sometimes Molly and Mike. He never liked any of my girlfriends so what would make Mary any different.

**Sherlock. Meanwhile.**

I was in Italy after successfully tracking down another member of Moriarty's organisation and coming one more step closer to Moran. I could travel freely because Mycroft helped me out with a fake passport; I just had to pretend that I was French.

On my way back to my hotel I picked up a pad of paper and new pens. I also bought 2 packs of cigarettes, a box of matches, and a bottle of scotch.

I sat outside on the small balcony because I found the lights of Florence rather calming. The air also had a faint smell of citrus and roses. I lit a cigarette, took a drink of the bottle, and then began to write.

_John,_

_ I'm sorry to alert you_

No. New sheet

_John,_

_ Currently tracking down_

I tossed the ball of paper into the room.

_John,_

_ As you may have guessed_

Ugh. Wrong.

_John,_

_ Thank you for not losing faith in me. It is deeply appreciated. I am writing to alert you that I am still alive and well. I have business that needs attending to. I will be back to Baker Street as soon as possible. If convenient do help Lestrade with the case on Harold Larsson, it's key prove that I am not a fake. Details on how I survived my jump will come at a later time._

_ All The Best, SH_

This may work.

_My Dearest John,_

_ I miss you terribly. I wake up in the morning wishing that you were here by my side. Finding Moran would be easier with your help as you are my muse. I want to be able to touch you like I never had to chance to do. I was so frightened, for once in my life I was unsure of what to do. I was hoping that you would want it too and just start it. You made me see the beauty in normalcy and that is a tremendous thing. Though you are not necessarily normal. While out here travelling the world and working on my own I miss our nights of tea, dinner, and movies. I miss waking up in the morning and going over cases with you. I never thought I would be able to miss anything as I miss you. I hope you can forgive me for leaving you like this but there was no other option. Moran was going to kill you if I were alive so before I am able to see you again or start my life again he needs to be dead. I hope this won't take much longer because the sooner it's over the sooner you are truly safe and I also get to be back to normal with you._

_ I Love You, Sherlock_

That certainly won't do.

I tore the page out and folded it four times before sticking it into my new jacket's inner breast pocket. I wrote 10 more letters and smoked half a pack of cigarettes and drank about 8 fingers worth of scotch. My brain was quiet when I went to the bed and it was nice. I haven't had peace since the last time I was in bed with John.

Not only did he make my mind work, he also calmed it down. The only thing I thought about when I was sitting close to him at night was if he felt this chemical reaction too. There were at least 7 occasions where I deduced him having the same feelings as me but I was unsure of what to do. So I waited. I was always waiting for him to react. I never learned how to interact on an intimate, physical level with someone but John has. John would know what to do. But he never did it.


	4. Chapter 4

**John. December 27th, 2012.**

"That was nice, getting away like that." Mary wrapped her arms around me after we walked into her flat, which I've been staying at mostly every night. We had gone to see her family in Gloucestershire for the holidays. It was nice, very different than last Christmas when Irene was supposedly dead before she actually did die.

It's funny to think about Irene and Sherlock in the after life. I can't imagine them not spending the rest of eternity with each other. Even though I'd rather be spending my eternity with Sherlock I would have to accommodate for Irene. But that's a horrible thought to have. I've been as happy as I could be lately. The coat has stayed hidden in the back of my closet for almost 2 months now. Mary and I have been dating for 3 months and she makes me happy. She can be somewhat boring but maybe I need boring now. Maybe 2 years of his fast paced life was more than enough.

"It was." I rested my head on her shoulder.

"John."

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

I wasn't sure what to say. This was a normal progression, maybe even slow. This was bound to happen.

I just kissed her, showing her I felt the same way. I couldn't get the words out of my mouth. Hopefully she understood.

After she fell asleep I snuck out of the apartment and went to his grave. It was bone chillingly cold out because it was now the middle of winter. There was no snow so I sat down in front of his head stone. This was only the second time I've been to his grave. "What the fuck do I have to do?" I asked the cold black stone. "What the fuck, Sherlock?"

Silence.

"Mary told me she loved me and I couldn't say anything. Why? I think it might be…might be…because I fucking love you. I love you. I love you. I loved you."

I rubbed my face.

"Why? You were such a pompous arse, I shouldn't have! You were the opposite of what I love in every single way. Every way but the dangerous adventures that you took me on but you were-you were something else. You threw yourself off a building because of Moriarty. I still can't figure out what the fuck I'm missing from that day. It's been over 7 months and I have no sodding idea! Just tell me Sherlock."

Tears streamed down my cheeks.

"And tell me that you loved me too."

I picked at the grass in front of his headstone.

"Come back." I begged. "I need you. Fuck you. I want to love Mary so bad but you're in the way. Stop this, you can't do this to me." I lectured like he was being rude to the person he had just helped. "I just want to love her and not you. I can't love you. But I did. Ok? I did, are you happy to hear it?"

I moved so my back was against the stone and leaned my head to look up at the stars. "You didn't care about the planets. You deleted the solar system but yet you saw the beauty of the stars. Maybe you felt that way about me. You deleted how to feel love but you wanted to love me. I know you did, I could see it."

I squeezed my eyes shut tight. "Tell me though, if I told you I loved you and I kissed you would we be happy? Would you still be here?"

There was a long pause.

"Mmm, I didn't think so. I have a real future with her you know? I love Mary. I loved you. I loved you so much but I was so afraid. It's taken me 7 months since you killed yourself to finally say it out loud."

I ended up falling asleep against the stone and the next thing I knew I was waking up in the back of a car. Without thinking I knew that Mycroft scooped me up. Can't have the tabloids starting up again as they were finally coming to a complete halt.

"Doctor Watson." A new young secretary opened the door. "Mr. Holmes is waiting for you."

"I don't…take me home. Back to Mary." I didn't move.

"You know that we won't do that until you talk to Mycroft."

I didn't want to speak to him because he helped in the suicide of his own brother. He gave Moriarty all the information that made Kitty Riley's fraud story look real. He said it was for the sake of learning about the web, not thinking he'd hurt his own brother. I just wanted to get home to Mary. She was going to be worried sick. "Fine, whatever." I rubbed my neck as I got out of the car. It was sore from the position I had fallen asleep in.

This was the first time I ever got to go into Mycroft's house. It was massive and a bit tacky with all the gold. I felt like I was at Buckingham Palace. It reminded me of Sherlock and Irene again. Maybe it was a sign that he was happy with her seeing that I've been thinking about them for the last few hours it seems.

"John, how's your neck this morning? I suspect you might have a nasty cold as well."

"No, I'm fine." I crossed my arms. "What do you want?"

"There's going to be a story running in all the papers today about how Sherlock wasn't a fake and the truth about Moriarty."

I just looked at him.

"I thought you would like to know if the paparazzi started to show up on your door step again."

"They don't know where I live."

"They'll find you John, it's a small city." Mycroft sighed. "So, I have a job if you want it."

"No."

"I want you to start writing your blogs again, about Sherlock."

"Why? I haven't been writing at all these 6 months. It will look weird if I start again."

"Here," He held out a file. "Start with some of these points."

"No." I laughed. "I'm not doing this."

"Just take the file John."

"Why? So you can feel better about yourself?"

"No so the public will remember him for what he is. This isn't for me at all."

"For what he was, not is and for his memory? Sentiment Mycroft? Really?" I scoffed.

"He-yes, yes for his memory."

I snatched the folder. "I'll think about it."

"Thank you John."

I nodded. "Can I go now?"

"How are you? How's Mary?"

"How do-" I stopped myself. "Never mind, I know the answer, I'll just find the bugs when I get home."

"I'm sure he'd miss you just as much."

"Caring is not an advantage Mycroft." I said before leaving.

When I got home Mary was pacing.

"Oh thank god!" She hugged me tight.

"I'm sorry."

"I thought you ran out on me because I said I loved you."

"No, you're crazy. Sherlock's brother needed me to do something for him, didn't want to wake you." I kissed her on the cheek. "I love you too, you know?" When I said the words to her it was like a weight was lifted from my chest.

"I know."

After we ate breakfast and watched telly I opened the folder while she ran down to the store. I wasn't sure why he had to put it in a file because it was one sheet of paper and 4 bullets. But he and his brother did like files.

**Possible Writing Prompts:**

-The day of his death and how you dealt with it

-What Sherlock did when you two weren't solving crimes

-Solved crimes you never wrote about

-Your friendship

I laughed and set the sheet of paper aside.

"Look! Is this what Mycroft wanted you for?" Mary set The Times in front of me. The headline read, _Sherlock Holmes: Not a Fraud_. It went on to describe how Moriarty lied, how he made this fake identity with help from some Harold Larsson, how he was the ring leader of a dangerous organisation, how he brought down Sherlock, how he got the not guilty verdict to come down, how Sherlock was used, how Lestrade cleared his name, and how everyone was wrong except for me, his faithful blogger.

"Yeah, this is what he wanted me for." I was almost gleeful at the story but it just felt so surreal.

"I'm happy for you, this must feel good." It did.

**Sherlock.**

"Your name is cleared."

"Greg pushed that investigation through rather quickly." I looked out my window in New York City.

"He cares about you, wanted to get it done."

"That's…nice of him."

"John slept at your grave last night."

"It's the dead of winter." My heart felt very heavy for moment and didn't beat, like I had some type of arrhythmia.

"He's ok, picked him up and he finished his sleeping in the car."

"Good, good." I took the note out of my bag I had written months ago in Florence. It was nice and creased from how many times I've folded it and unfolded it.

"He's getting rather serious with the Mary, Sherlock."

"I'm happy for him." I wasn't. "He should be going on with his normal life. I'm not around."

"I'm not daft; you two love each other very much. I'm positive you've deduced that a long time ago."

"Bugger off." I rolled my eyes.

"Sherlock, it's ok to have feelings for someone else. If you do you're going to be very heart broken if he marries this women."

"Mycroft you're mad."

"I don't want this getting in the way of you finding Moran."

"There's nothing in the way! Stop being concerned Mycroft, it doesn't suit you one bit." I lit a cigarette.

"I saw what happened to you when you had feelings for Irene, she nearly brought you down and ruined everything."

"Irene is brilliant." Then I remembered Mycroft believes she's dead. "Was brilliant I mean."

"Which is why you were attracted to her."

"Stop it." I sung.

"As good as John is he's not brilliant so this is some different type of attraction."

"This is the dumbest conversation we have ever had. We sound like the rest of them."

"I'm worried, just worried you won't get the job done."

I hung up my phone because I couldn't take anymore of the inane conversation.

This job was a lot harder than I thought it was going to be though. I needed to get Moran no matter what. No matter how much my mind was trying to fool me into thinking the better idea was to go home and be with John. Or John should be here which is crazy because in both of these scenarios he would potentially be shot. The only way he'll be ok is if I finish this task and it doesn't matter how long I have to stay lost to do it.

I'll get over this crush. This stupid, stupid crush. None of this makes any sense. There's no reason for me to have these-feelings. They're stupid and useless.


	5. Chapter 5

**John. May 2nd, 2013.**

It all happened very fast after I said I love you to Mary. Only 5 months later we were having a small wedding at a small church in a day with only her parents and brother, Harry, Mrs. Hudson, her best friend, and I had Mike.

When I asked Mike to be my best man he gave me this look like he was sorry. I knew he wasn't sorry over my engagement. He was sorry because my real best man had thrown himself off the top of St. Barts. But even if I had asked Sherlock he'd scoff and tell me about how the institution of marriage only came about for people to hold on to their land or something and that I'd be ridiculous to go through with this. He would hate the fact that I'm getting married. I don't think he'd hate it because he had feelings for me, he'd hate it because the idea to him just doesn't make any sense at all.

But if he were here would everything be different? I certainty wouldn't have run in to Mary ever because I'm never on this side of London much. She lives and works close by. I'd probably be too busy to even settle down-ever. God knows most of my time was devoted to Sherlock when he was alive and I'm ok with that. The situation just didn't leave much room for girlfriends or free time. Not that I resent it because I cherish every moment I spent with Sherlock.

If he were standing here in front of me in the kitchen I'd wrap my arms around him and kiss him; I think and then shut it down immediately. Instead I take a sip of my tea before abandoning it and heading into my room to find the coat. I can't decide what to do with it because I have to move out of my flat in a couple of weeks permanently. I'm moving into Mary's place because it's nice, I didn't want to look for another apartment to live either. Maybe years down the road we'll live in the suburbs but not right now.

But the coat, she'll know it's not mine because it's clearly too long for me.

I pulled it out of the closet and lie down on the bed. I haven't done this forever it seems. "It's going to be a year in one month now." I clenched my jaw. I hate feeling like all my emotion was just going to over flow. "I was holding on to some hope that you'd make a miracle happen but I don't think that's going to happen anymore."

I hugged my pillow. "I'm getting married tomorrow. Can you believe it?" Why the fuck am I talking out loud right now? I've lost it. "I know it's bloody stupid. But it's not, I love her. You're not here to ruin it so that's-ah…that's good I guess." I took a deep breath. "I'd rather you here though. I'd love to see you react to all this. I figured out you had feelings for me so maybe it's better you're not here. I don't want to see you heart broken." I sighed.

Then my mind started to wander again. I let it. I thought about kissing him in my old bed on Baker Street. Feeling the heat of his body next to mine. Finding out what his lips tasted like. What he looked like when he was thinking about me and only me but not deducing, just being there in the moment. Then I remembered he could never just be in a moment. And I remembered I could never have him like that. But my mind does what it wants in its unconscious state and I spend my night with him in bed.

I jolted out of bed to the sound of my phone ringing and squinted at the time. Shit, shit, shit. I was going to be late for my wedding. I put the coat back in the closet nicely then did a mad dash to shower, get into my suit, and brush my teeth. My phone showed that Mike was calling me and when I got down stairs he was at the door. "I was so worried you got cold feet." He said when I got into the car.

"No, my alarm didn't go off."

"Terrible time for that to happen." Mike laughed as he pulled away. "If Sherlock were still around he would have got you right up."

I felt sick.

"Sorry." He frowned.

"No worries." I smoothed the wrinkles on my pants. "I know people want to talk about him now, it's almost been a year. I can take it." I couldn't really.

"Sure some people thought you'd be doing this with him." He chuckled a little.

"Ha, yeah."

"I sound like a wanker, I'm going to shut up now."

"It's fine." It wasn't but he already knows he's just a stand in and he messed up.

We get to the church just in time. Mary looked stunning in a clean white dress and he blonde hair cascading down from a loose knot. When she met me down at the end of the aisle she leaned in and asked me very quietly, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

I just gave her the biggest smile I could.

During the ceremony I feel Sherlock is watching as odd as that may sound but I know what it's like to have his eyes on you for extended periods of time. Whenever it happened I could feel it and I did at the alter. I glanced around but I didn't see anything. Not that I should because he's dead. When we walked down the aisle as a married couple I was studying the church for a sign of anyone other than our guests and the priest but there was no one.

"Ah, a married man now John!" Mrs. Hudson hugged me tight in front of the church. "I never thought I'd see this day."

"I'm not a notorious bachelor anymore." I grinned.

"I suppose you aren't." She squeezed me one more time. "Do stop by for tea soon? My renters just moved out."

"Oh that's not good."

"Said the place didn't feel right."

I couldn't understand how Baker Street could ever feel wrong.

"Come on husband." Mary grabbed my hand and I felt like someone's eyes were on me again but I shook it off and enjoyed the rest of my first day being a married man.

**Sherlock.**

I woke up in a large bed covered in a heavy duvet with a massive headache. Of course Mycroft found me, not even in London for 24 hours for the first time in 5 months and he tracks me down.

"Dear brother, good you're awake. We can talk about the mistake you made last night." He was standing in the door way fully dressed. He was running late for a meeting so this wasn't going to be a long conversation. "I thought it was understood you weren't going to be doing any substances while working on this Moran case. It was one of the stipulations of me letting you do this alone and disappear. I also thought you weren't going to go anywhere near John."

"I just wanted to see my friend going through the archaic ritual of marriage. That's what normal people do."

"Do you even have a lead in London or are you just here?"

"I have a lead in Belfast."

"Any closer? Did the cocaine and liquor help your brain last night?"

"Fuck off Mycroft."

"And I thought you weren't sleeping rough."

"I made a mistake."

"You put your life at danger."

"Oh please, I was with the Homeless Network." I rolled my eyes.

"Take care of your hang over." He was very angry with me but he was holding back.

"Its just dehydration." I rolled back over and pulled the duvet to my chin.

"I know. We'll talk more about this when I get home."

Mycroft left without another word.

I had gone to John's wedding because I just needed to be there. I was in the area anyhow, it's not as if I went all the way out of my way to see John. I didn't think that seeing John would make me endure the amount of emotional anguish that fell on top of me. John appeared to be very happy. This was good because he finally wasn't an emotional wreck anymore as my brother was reporting for some time.

Though he did look very tired, he must have had one of those nightmares about the war last night. It's no doubt that he was missing the excitement of the chase, which I brought him because his limp was back.

After the ceremony I met up with one of my old connections that immediately poured me a drink while telling me all about his recent illicit activities. I didn't even ask for the cocaine. He just gave it to me. I ended up in at the arches, very drunk and I got very high. I stared up at the stars, pulling my new coat taught as I watched the sky. I'll never forget the day John was so impressed with me when I told him how beautiful the stars were. He didn't understand that I could see the beauty of things.

He thought I had no appreciation for nice things like the stars in the sky or the painting that he hung in the hallway of Baker Street.

I appreciate nice things. I appreciate him. I don't believe he's a genius but there are many parts of his brain that I find extremely appealing. John is extremely comforting and these last 11 months have made me wonder how I survived my years before him.

Waking up in the morning at Mycroft's made me wonder how I was able to function after doing drugs before because I was in terrible pain. I fell back asleep and woke up a bit achy but better. I showered then drank two large glasses of water and had a banana.

I headed over to Molly's flat because I had received a few emails from her seeing if I was ok. "You risked getting caught just so you could go to the wedding?"

"This is repetitive conversation. I had it earlier." I sat at the end of her small dinning room table after she set a cup of coffee in front of me.

"How are you? Ready to take down the next lead?"

"Yes, I'll be leaving tomorrow. Hope it's not an inconvenience that I'm here."

"Not all, I'm happy you showed up. I've been worried."

"Yes."

"How did you enjoy the ceremony?"

"Very normal and tradition, very much something that John would appreciate. I wonder if John knows Mary's father is also an alcoholic like his own. She also doesn't drink enough water and her blonde hair is achieved by the cheap box of dye anyone can pick up at the store. She broke her left ankle when she was 6 or 7 and her right ring finger not long ago. She looks at him like he sometimes looked at me." The last deduction slipped out of my mouth and I couldn't catch it.

Her face dropped. She felt sorry for me.

"How is work?" I changed the subject.

"Work is fi-don't you want to talk about it?"

"About what?"

"About how the man you love just married someone else?"

I rolled my eyes. "That would a useless conversation." My heart felt like it was a rock. "Tell me about work and how is Lestrade getting on with his new men?"

"He's doing well and work is normal." She looked into her tea. "I understand you know, what it's like to not be with who you want?"

"I'm sitting right here."

"Ugh, not everything is about you Sherlock." Molly sounded frustrated with me.

"Sorry."

She shook her head. "When are you going to finally come back?"

"When Moran is dead. I don't know when it's going to happen, hopefully soon."

"I hope it's soon too, so things will be back normal."

"Normal is a relative concept."

"I miss you in the lab, Greg misses you helping him solve crimes, and John misses you."

"He's happy now."

"Not as happy as he is with you. Mary fills somewhat of the void but not all of it. I saw him a few days ago, he's back to using his cane. I know he was limping before but it seems like it progressed."

"I did notice he was limping yesterday, I didn't see a cane. Must had been stubborn and left it at home."

"Can't you contact him and tell him you're alight."

"Its almost been a year, he can survive now. He has Mary. A few more months won't hurt him."

"It might hurt you, you don't look well. You probably haven't been sleeping or eating enough if at all. You reek of cigarettes and I'm fairly certain you're hungover."

"Fabulous deductions Molly." I finished my coffee. "I have to be running now."

"That was a quick visit." She frowned.

"Sorry Molly, I have no time to stick around to talk about trivial affairs. I'll let you know when I'm back in the city."


	6. Chapter 6

**John. June 16th, 2013.**

I took a deep breath, hit submit, and looked at the screen.

_A Year In My Life_

Terrible title. Horrible but I didn't know what else to name it. There was nothing better to title it.

_The Day The Man I Loved Jumped Off St. Barts and Changed Everything_

_The Day That Made Me A Complete Mess For Months_

_The Note: What Sherlock Wanted You To Know, He Was A Fraud_

_Sherlock: Pompous Arse Git_

It was pages and pages long. I talked about his last day in detail and why we ran. I had to leave out Mycroft's role or he said he'd take it down right away. I also left out how I had feelings for him. But I gave all the important details and I talked about how hard things were after for me. Sherlock would have hated it because I even admitted not being able to figure out why he threw himself off of a building.

It has been exactly one year since I had watched him fall. Since I looked at his lifeless, bloody body on the pavement so I figured the blog post would be somewhat cathartic. It was nice to get it down and share it with the people who believed in Sherlock and in me the whole time. And the ones that came around after the story broke about Moriarty being the fake one.

After I posted the blog I grabbed Sherlock's coat and I drove down to the graveyard. All around his headstone lay flowers, notes, pictures, and random artefacts. It was time for me to move on and this was the only way I could do it. I looked around and there was no one there at the moment so I draped the coat over his head stone before taking a deep breath.

"Look, this is the only thing I can do to get on. I loved you and I'm absolutely sure you knew but I have to let it go…I have to let you go. Mary and I are happily married. I need to stop thinking about how much you would hate that-me being domestic and happy about it. I wish-ah-wish we could have been-um-whatever it is we had potential of being. I'm not sure we would have ever figured it out if we had more time but…

"I love you and I will always but I'm going to let it go. I still miss you. One day I'll figure out why you did this but I refuse to dwell on it. Maybe I won't ever figure it out because I see but I don't observe. I'll miss you a lot today then after I won't, that's it. After I'll lead a normal life. At least now I can't curl up in bed with your stupid coat and cry. I should have left this here much sooner."

I touched his headstone then looked around the cemetery, hoping no one had heard me. I observed his grave a little longer simply because I was amazed at all the people who remembered him. I looked at the mementos and wondered whom each one of them came from and if I had met the person they belonged to. It was rather strange to see the love for a man who was so vilified for so long.

He would have hated it.

When I got back home my post had over 400 comments on it and 7,000 views in only an hour and a half. Someone must have reported it somewhere that I posted.

One comment stuck out to me for a stupid reason, it sounded like something that he would say to me when he was perched over my shoulder:

**Yaakov Holender Posted 30 Minutes Ago:**

I'm excited to see that you're writing again Doctor Watson! Though I would love to hear more about the cases and less about the man who we all know was not a fake.

I just started to laugh to myself, "John? Dear?" Mary poked her head into the office. "Are you alight?"

"Yes, I'm fine. This person who commented on my blog post, it sounds like-it just sounds like something Sherlock would tell me."

She smiled at me sweetly.

"I'm not a nutter."

"I didn't say you were." Mary chuckled. "You can see him in everything, especially today."

"I can't see him in everything."

"You talk about him more than you know."

"I do?"

"All the time and that's fine, you and him were best friends yeah?"

"Yeah, he was my best mate."

"Though sometimes I think you loved him more than me." She laughed with her whole body because why would I love this man? The stories I've told her probably made him look like he was someone no body could possibly love. She just couldn't see him how I could see him even when he was driving me crazy I felt this deep connection with him.

"That's-crazy." I rolled my eyes.

"I know, you being in love with a man? All those women you've dated would be quite shocked."

"They'd be shocked? What about you?"

"I would be too but I could say I saw it coming the way you talked about him all the time."

This conversation was scaring me a bit.

"People would say you married me just to clear your own name, 'confirmed bachelor'."

"Mmm, clearly I did." I nodded.

"Well, how would you like some tea?" She changed the topic on a dime.

"I would love some." I kissed her cheek.

When she left I replied to a few of the comments including Mr. Holender's.

**John Watson Replied:**

I'm glad you and everyone else seem to be excited to see my posts again. It's very comforting to know that so many people believed in him.

You sound an awful lot like Sherlock, he'd be happy to see this. -JW

A few minutes passed before he replied.

**Yaakov Holender Replied:**

I'm sure no one is near close to ever sounding like him.

I was curious, do you even have hint to why he killed himself?

**John Watson Replied:**

No, not one hint. He could be selfish but he didn't care for what people thought so I don't believe he'd throw himself off a roof for the reason people believing he was a fraud. Maybe it was because there was a prospect he'd never be able to work again and his archenemy was dead. I'm not sure though.

My reply sparked a million theories. Some saying Moriarty pushed him but let him call me, some were more ridiculous, but one from an Adrian Irvine saying that maybe he did it for me and the rest of his friends stuck. That one made sense and for some reason it made me feel better. It was like all my loose ends were finally tied.

**Sherlock.**

"I suggest you read the post John has made."

"John made a post?" I asked my brother quietly. The walls of my hotel room were thin.

"Yes, it's rather good." He paused. "But that's not why I'm calling."

"What is it then?"

"If you haven't realised it's been a year since you're supposed death."

"Yes."

"The tabloids are filled with sightings of you."

"Well I am very much alive."

"I just want you to stay out of England until you find Moran or if you absolutely have to be here."

"Yes, fine, whatever Mycroft." I powered on my laptop.

"Oh, John's at your grave now apparently."

"I don't need to hear about that."

"He's leaving your coat, would you like me to send someone to pick it up?"

"Please do, I miss it."

"Alight, I'll speak to you later."

"Yes, later." I hung up and set my phone on the side table.

Why would John be leaving my coat at the grave now? It's been a year. So strange how people think.

I opened up John's blog and began to read. It was rather heart breaking to read what he was feeling this past year. I made things worse because I figured that he was hiding some of his feelings because he does those things. It was very upsetting to think of John so sad. It was bad enough to see him that one time on the street.

I wanted to leave a message. I figured with all the comments already on the page he'd just skim right past mine. Hmm, name…Yaakov Holender. Yaakov is the old Jewish for his middle name, Hamish and Holender is fitting because of where I am currently located. I just needed to get in touch with him in some way but I had no idea that when I left the comment I would become obsessed with wanting him to answer it.

If it was so horrible to see John so sad then why did I feel horrible to see him so happy at his wedding? And now, with the blog, it made me feel horrible like he was finally letting go of me. If he does let go of me what will happen when I return back to London for good and I can finally show him I'm alive? He might have children, children always mess everything up worse. He'll never be able to help me or come when I need him. But he would because that's who he is and he'd make Mary angry. That wouldn't be good.

When he replied to me it gave me this warm feeling in the pit of my stomach. I couldn't just let this conversation end so I asked him one more question. I wanted him to know why I did it because he deserves that at least. I knew my question would ignite a discussion and of course Irene was the one to point John in the right direction.

_Clever Adrian Irvine –SH_

_Oh my dear you're clever too Mr. Yaakov. Don't you think John will notice that it's you the first three letters of your last name of the same as Holender XO Irene_

_He won't –SH_

_You miss him XO Irene_

I don't reply to her because it's silly to. I can't argue with her about these topics because she knows everything, it seems, about attraction.

Of course Mycroft called me and complained about how it wasn't safe for me to communicate with John in any form and I should stop right away. So I did.

I took out the letter I had written John and unfolded it. Maybe one day I'll show him. Until then it's some sort of comfort to me to have.


	7. Chapter 7

**John. March 25th, 2014.**

A couple of months ago I was approached about making my blog posts a book. I've been updating every week or so since the anniversary and getting loads of responses and reviews. They wanted to include posts from before it happened up until the most recent that they could get. They also wanted me to write a nice essay wrapping everything up in a nice little box. It was hard writing that essay because it was hard to put everything together for some reason. But I did it and they published the book and tonight we were having a release party.

"I'm glad they're not making me read a passage like they wanted." I said to Mary while we ate breakfast.

"You'd do just fine." She rested her head on her hand.

"People are going to be wanting to talk about everything."

"I'm sure you'll be just fine with that too."

Even though I've been writing I haven't made my life revolve around Sherlock. I haven't sobbed in the foetal position for a long, long time. But since yesterday I was feeling like how I felt before Mary. There was this big gapping hole that I couldn't fill no matter what I did.

"I need to go pick up my suit." I put my plate at the sink.

"Mmm, yeah."

"I'll be back later."

"Tell Sherlock I said hello."

"What?"

"You're going to stop by the grave right?"

I leaned against the counter, damn leg. "Do you have a problem with it?"

"No, I just wish you'd tell me. You act like it's some big secret."

"Why would it be a secret?"

"Is he really alive?"

"What the bloody hell are you on about?"

"There's pictures, they're blurry and fuzzy but they could be him and people are saying they've seen him."

"Mary you never even met him." I said a bit louder than I should have. "He's dead. It's been a year and 9 months. He's gone and he's never going to come back."

"I'm sorry." She said softly.

"It's fine, fine…"

I got ready then headed to the cemetery, "Um, sorry it's almost been a year since I've visited. People think they see you everywhere. I should tell the tabloids I thought I saw you that time, a few months after you jumped. People would go berserk over the story. They're all going crazy over this book. Which is weird because it's all in my blog and they can read it whenever. Now I have this signing thing. It's so, it's weird and you'd think it's weird too. Well I should go. I'll be talking about you all night so I'm not sure how I'll feel after that. Hopefully I'll make it. I still miss you."

Mary and I spent the rest of the day getting ready in awkward silence once I got back home with my suit. We put on good faces at the event. Many of our clients were there along with Molly, Greg, Mrs. Hudson, and of course Mycroft. I didn't remember inviting Mycroft but he got an invitation.

"This is wonderful John."

"Tell me, did you get the book published?" I questioned. I was curious and it wouldn't surprised me one bit.

"Of course not, someone in the world just found it very interesting. Well looking at this party it looks like more than one person found it interesting."

I looked around. "Look Mycroft, tell me what all this business is with these sightings of Sherlock?"

"There is no business. Its just people thinking they see-a ghost." Mycroft signalled to a pretty girl, must be his new assistant. "I have to be going very soon but congratulations John."

"Yeah, ah huh." I walked away looking for Molly because I haven't spoke to her in sometime.

She looked nervous for some reason but she always did have that anxious feel about her, "John." She smiled slightly and gave me a hesitant hug. "I'm very happy for you."

"Thank you." I patted her back.

"How are you? How's Mary?"

"We're both wonderful."

"Sherlock would be very happy for you."

"I'm not sure if you remember him correctly." I laughed.

"I remember him perfectly and if you did something worth while, no matter what, he'd be happy for you. But only you." She said as her phone lit up. "Oh, I need to take this. I'll be around. Sorry."

"It's fine go on."

Only a few minutes later the lady doing my PR asked me to come on stage to say a few words. This was the part I was dreading the most. "When I got back from Afghanistan I was a complete wreck. Then I met Sherlock Holmes-" Right as the s in Holmes escaped from my mouth a bullet whizzed right by my ear. I dropped to the floor and everyone was screaming. I reached to the waistband of my pants only to remember I haven't carried a gun on me for ages.

I shot back up to my feet and started to look around for Mary when my eyes caught the crack in the glass where the bullet came through on the opposite end of the hall. There was a building across the way, perfect range.

Without thinking I ran in the direction of the building, leaving my wife and friends behind. When I got half up the stairs I realised I wasn't limping and I also remembered-again-that I didn't have a gun and this could be a horrible idea. But I did it anyway.

I found a man, shot in the chest with blood probably filling his lungs. He was going to die any secind. "Why'd you try to shoot me?" I pinned him down with my knee.

"Your-" He wheezed and choked. "Your friend. Mr. Holmes."

I backed off when a team of men led by Greg busted on to the roof. "John, did you do this?"

"No, I found him like this."

"Is he dead?"

I glanced down. "He is now." I looked up at the stars. "Now Sherlock would have really enjoyed tonight."

"His fingerprints are all over this."

I just laughed. I laughed so hard I ended up on the ground with tears streaming down my face. I was pretty sure I was going to end up on in a mental hospital if I didn't pull it together but I let myself laugh for a while because I needed it.

Eventually I got up and went back down to the hotel looking for Mary. She was crying so I held her and told her it was all going to be ok now.

When we got home she fell asleep but I stayed up pacing trying to think about why I got shot at.

The next day Greg called to tell me that the guy was working for Moriarty's network, which was now a man named Sebastian Moran's network. Apparently it was Mycroft's work the gunman was killed. Greg said that I needed to be careful because these so called sightings of Sherlock have made me a target for some reason.

Before I left for work I put my gun in my waistband.

For the first time in over a year I didn't limp on my walk to the surgery.

**Sherlock. The previous night.**

"WHERE IS HE?" I hit the man with the butt end of my gun. In the surprise he still got the shot off somehow. I heard screaming from the building.

Fuck John. What if he hit him? I couldn't think about that now though. I threw off his shot; if he did hit him hopefully it wasn't a kill shoot.

"WHERE IS MORAN?" My voice shook. I needed to find out. I wrestled the man to the ground.

"He's not stupid you know? He knows you're around. He knew you'd be here to try to get him."

I felt defeated.

"You should have just killed yourself."

I kicked him in the face before shooting him once and texting Lestrade where he would find the body of the man that tried to shoot John from a blocked number. I jumped to the building next to me when I heard the door open.

John. Oh thank god he's ok. Not surprising one bit he'd go after the man who tried to kill him.

It's been 1 year, 9 months, 1 week, and 4 days since I last heard his voice. I was wondering if I was beginning to just make up what his voice sounded like in my head but apparently I hadn't been because he sounded just has I imagined him everyday.

"Now Sherlock would have really enjoyed tonight." He said while looking up at the stars. I did the same thing. They were quite lovely.

But he was wrong about the evening. Every thing had gone horribly wrong with this because now Moran knew I was alive. I used myself as bait but I got played. This organisation needs to go down because it's got the best of me twice now.

I popped my head up when I heard John laughing, thinking that there was something wrong. I saw the top of John's head but Lestrade saw me, his eyes grew wide and he turned white. Shock. I shook my head then texted him to relax and to not tell John for his own safety. Though I guess it won't keep him safe much longer. I followed it up by telling him to meet me at Mycroft's home tomorrow morning.

I sat back down and collected myself. I had to wait until things calmed down to make my exit. Mycroft's car was sitting out front waiting for me. "What happened?" He practically hissed.

"I misjudged, I thought for sure Moran would come out of hiding." I punched the door. "John's going to get hurt now."

"I'll put extra detail on him."

"I thought I was going to come home tonight."

"Even if you got to come home today everything is different. You do realise this? Nothing is ever going to be the same."

"I know. I know." I sank in my seat. For the second time in my life adult life I began to cry. It's not lost on me that both times John was directly involved.

"Now, now dear brother, everything is going to be ok. We'll get him. We're close."

"I thought I've been close for a year." I snapped. "Pull over."

"Sherlock, no. You're staying with me tonight."

"I need to clear my head. Walk."

"No." He said firmly.

"He's going to die and it's my fault."

"John won't die. We'll get Moran. You've taken out just about everyone, there's not much left."

"There's just going to be more."

"What are you going to do? Give up?"

I wiped my face dry. "No."

"Ok, good."

When we got to Mycroft's I hid in my usual room with a bottle of whisky. I drank enough for my thoughts to calm down.

The next morning I found Lestrade speaking with Mycroft in the dining room over coffee. "You bastard!" He stood up from the table. "I'd punch you in the face right now if you didn't just save John's life last night. Your brother just explained everything you've been doing and how you were the one to lead me to Larsson to clear all of our names."

"Hmm yes, good he brought you up to speed." I folded my arms.

"What do you need help with?"

"I need you to keep John safe. Both of you."

"Where you going?" Mycroft asked.

"Out."

"Out?"

"No drugs Sherlock." Lestrade said.

"No drugs, I'm going to kill Moran."

"How?"

"I don't know but I'm going to do it. You all just have to figure a way to make John safe while I'm gone."

I left, not really sure where I was going to finally end this hunt but no matter what it took it was going to end soon.


	8. Chapter 8

**John. June 16th, 2014.**

"I can't understand why we're having a party."

"We're not having a party. Your publishers are having a memorial." Mary zipped up her dress.

"At a hotel ballroom with food, drinks, and apparently music. This is a party. It's dreadful and he'd hate it." I complained. "Last time I went to something for my book I was nearly shot."

"You could have told them not to do it."

"I didn't have much of a choice. They were doing it no matter what. I could not, not go to some event for my best mate." I looked in the mirror. I feel like these last 2 years have taken quite a toll on my body than I would have ever imagined. The ageing process really sped up. The lines that creased my face were deeper and more abundant. The grey around my temples was spreading through the rest of my hair.

"Will things ever stop about him? It's been two years. Every time I think it's died down it starts up again."

"People-I don't know-some people think he's still alive."

"Do you? Last time I asked that you nearly took my head off."

"No. If he were alive for 2 years, I think he'd contact me by now."

"What if he's hiding for you?"

"Sherlock never did anything for anyone else. Except for Mrs. Hudson, maybe he's doing something for her but I find that very doubtful and if it was for her, I'd surely know about it."

"Have you gone to the grave today?"

"No."

"Shall we stop on the way?"

"We'll be late."

"Thought you would want to visit it today."

"I don't need to."

"Ok." She said but I could hear the concern in her voice.

The whole thing was bloody awful. This was the last way he would want to be remembered. The place was rather tacky. Most of the people didn't even personally know Sherlock. The one good thing was the drinks were free so I had a couple.

Ok more than a couple. I found myself in a cab heading towards the cemetery after telling Mary I was going to go to the bathroom. It was one of those moments where I was really aching for him. As good as I've been at suppressing my want for him over this last year I had times where I just hurt for him. This was one of those times. My triggers were normally cabs, great coats, violins, and tea. One time I was dusting and I got a bit down, so stupid. Sentiment.

I picked up a bottle of Sherlock's favourite scotch on the way and brought it with me to his headstone. Just like last year it was covered with mementos. I moved enough of the things out of the way so I could sit down.

"We really have to stop meeting like this."

I opened the bottle. "I'm so sorry about that party. I should have stopped it, Mary's right, I could have said no. We shouldn't be partying to remembering you. You didn't party. Well at least in my time with you. I can't imagine you partying though. When you drank you were normally quite funny. Except for that one time I think about when we got pissed on those bottles of wine the client gave us for helping her find her great grandmother's ring. You fell asleep with your head on my lap after we talked for hours. Well it wasn't all sad just when you told me about your parents-your dad committing suicide. It was the first and only time you've ever got into detail about them. It was so sad. You were so sad. No one saw how sad you could be."

I took a long pull from the bottle.

"Mycroft will be here any minute. I think his people are around here somewhere watching me. No, I know he has people watching me. I've noticed the same two men hanging around me lately. I want to tell him to call them off but what good will that do?"

I had another drink.

"Why do people think you're still alive? It's fucking unbelievable. It's been two years! 730 days! I haven't seen you…I would have seen you. You would have contacted me somehow because you like showing how clever you are. You liked showing me how clever you were. You always wanted my approval."

I gulped down more scotch then tossed the bottle, the dark liquid and glass crashing all over the place.

"You fucking arse. I still can't believe you did this to me."

I closed my eyes and the next thing I knew I was waking up in a bed that smelt oddly familiar to Sherlock.

I opened my eyes to discover what had to be a spare bedroom of Mycroft's home. I stayed in the bed for a few minutes with my face buried in the sheets because it smelled like his soap and my head hurt.

When I finally got up I discovered that Mary was in the sitting room with Mycroft. "Oh, John." She hugged me.

"I'm sorry."

"It's ok."

"Mary, do you mind if I have a word with the good Doctor?"

"No, I'll be in the car." She kissed me before leaving.

"What is it Mycroft?"

"Is there anything I can do for you? You seem to be…not well."

"It was just because of the anniversary, I don't do that often-ever." I was very embarrassed with how I acted last night.

"You must know he-"

"Would hate to see me that way? You give your brother too much credit for caring."

"Thought you came to the conclusion with some help from those people on the Internet that he jumped for your sake."

"Maybe I was being hopeful."

"Why the resentment today John?"

"I'm not sure." I honestly wasn't.

"Well have a good day then."

I went home and things returned to normal. I let go of whatever it was that made me so angry.

**Sherlock. The previous evening.**

"Oh Sherlock, you've picked a terrible day to come looking for a bed." My brother spoke quietly. He looked worried, there was someone else in the house.

"Woman tonight for you, Mycroft?"

"No. John."

I felt a dry spot in my throat. "Why?"

"He got pissed and passed out on your grave."

"He's here?"

"Out cold in your room."

"My room?"

"I felt it appropriate."

"Rather mean, my scent is all over the sheets. I know they haven't changed them in a week. You should make your cleaner do my room incase you have guests."

"Thought maybe he'd feel some comfort."

"I'll stay in another room. This place is so large, he won't even know that I'm here." I went to the stairs.

"Now don't even think of going into that room."

"No of course not." I said while slinking up the stairs.

Of course I did other wise. I left my shoes in a room that I picked down the hall because I know John will go right towards the stairs in the morning out of habits of his one night stands, he'll be looking for the door out.

His door was slightly open, leaving a wide enough gap for me to go through without having to open it anymore. His breathing patterns suggested that he was in a deep sleep so I moved closer to the bed. 2 years and some odd hours since I've been this close to him.

I studied his face, taking in the new wrinkles. He's lost weight as well. Domestic bliss doesn't suit him as well as he believes it does. He smells like scotch. My scotch.

I can't help it when I reach out and cup his cheek. "Oh John." Sometimes I think I just made him up in my head but feeling the heat of his skin on my finger tips reminds me that I don't have that good of an imagination to just make things like him up. I wanted to talk to him and tell him all about what I've been doing. I'm so close. "A few more weeks, maybe months but I'll be home soon."

I ended up crawling into bed with him. For an hour I stayed there watching his chest rise up and down and up and down. It was relaxing. I haven't relaxed in 2 years. I only left because he was moving about a bit, coming out of his heavier parts of the sleep cycle. I couldn't get caught being so close to what I was after. After Moran fooled me I disappeared again, making him think-maybe that it was just public hysteria.

When I was having coffee in the morning with my brother Mary arrived. I went out the back and over to Molly's for a check in.

"You look worse each time I see you." She had cut her hair. She broke up with a bloke she had been seeing for 4 months so Molly wanted to try something new. She had also lost weight.

"Thank you Molly."

"John got smashed last night. He was falling all over himself, very uncomfortable to see."

"He doesn't do that much?"

"Not from what I can tell."

"Good."

"I can't imagine how much you two miss each other. I don't care what you say, you were 2 halves to a whole."

"So sweet of you." I said with an eye roll.

She blushed.

"Mary and John aren't getting on very well." I picked up an orange from her fruit bowl.

"You can tell? Well they don't seem happy when I see them together but I don't know…" She paused. "I hope you're not making it up in your head."

"Why would I?"

Molly shook head, "Nothing, never mind."


	9. Chapter 9

**Sherlock. October 18th, 2014.**

"I've solved his final problem." I pressed the gun to Moran's head.

"Just because you kill me you think it's over?"

"I know it's over, I'm 100% certain when I pull this trigger that no one is left to hurt my John."

"Your John?" He laughed at me.

I pulled the trigger and it was all over. "No more loose ends."

I've killed more people than I ever thought I would. I've been at war for 2 years and four months and 2 days. I've slept in places I could have probably died. I've kept hidden during the day for the most part, living in the night. I hurt a lot of people. I got hurt many times. But it was worth it. The entire 2 years had been filled with pain but now I was going to get to go home.

I sent Lestrade a text where to find the body, only a block from John and Mary's place, and then I went to Baker Street. A day ago I let Mrs. Hudson in on the secret that I was alive because I was soon going to need a flat to live and there was a vacancy at 221B. She cried, she yelled, but mostly she was happy to see me.

The flat looked like a more cleaned up version of what it had been before, it was also missing some of my equipment but Molly had all that at her flat. Mrs. Hudson had put back all the things Mycroft had been storing for me. She probably worked all night at making it feel like my home again.

It felt completely right to be pacing around 221B. My body was pumping with adrenaline. I couldn't stand being still. The fact that John was going to be walking up the stairs at any moment made me anxious. I may have not been physically dead over the last 2 years but I certainly was dead in some way. Emotionally. Everyone that knows me or of me would scoff at that because I don't have emotions but this assessment would be wrong. Everyone has emotions, the metaphorical heart, and mine had been crushed.

"Congratulations dear brother, it only took two years." Mycroft appeared in the doorway.

"You're mocking me, now?"

"I'm joking."

"No time to joke." I adjusted the skull on the mantel.

"Ah, yes John is coming. How'd you get him here?"

"Mrs. Hudson called for tea."

"And he's going to come up here?"

"Yes, she'll get him up here." I paused. "You leaked the video?"

"I did."

The video of me exiting Scotland Yard on CCTV from as many different cameras possible and they all had time stamps along with a man walking out in front of me with the day's paper.

"It should be on telly any moment, shall we turn it on?"

"No, hopefully John will be here by then."

"He's on his way. He took a cab so there's no chance he'll find out from someone else."

"Hopefully it's not on the radio."

"Cabbie is one of my men, wanted to make sure he got here safely." My brother revealed to me.

"Good, good."

"Are you going to tell him?"

"Tell him what? I'm a live, obvious."

"No, don't be daft Sherlock. Tell him you love him, you keep that letter you wrote him on you, you should give it to him."

Ah, the love letter. I've folded it and unfolded it many times. It was as creased and aged as John's face had become over that time which I found to be fitting. "How'd you know about the letter?"

"It had fallen out of your pocket once."

The capillaries in my face widened, blood rushed to my cheeks and I began to sweat. Embarrassment.

"It's very sweet, wondering why he didn't touch you and proclaiming love."

"Stop it Mycroft."

"Telling him-"

"Stop it, leave, now."

"Very well then, very well. I have a lot to do, mostly because of you. Make sure John writes an entry about this."

"Sure."

There were more important things I needed to tell John than to write a blog post about me returning.

Only 45 seconds after Mycroft's car drove off I heard a cab approach, stop, the door open downstairs, and then talking between Mrs. Hudson and John. I couldn't make out what she said to him to have him come up the stairs, the 5th step squeaking under his pressure.

The door opened with a creak and suddenly I was unsure of my position. I didn't want to completely stun him but where would be a-"Sh-Sherlock-what?" My eyes met his. Shock. Fear. Anger. It seemed that every emotion that was categorized as bad appeared to be there and the ones I wanted weren't.

"John, I-"

"No." His knees were weak under him so he slid down the wall in the living room. "No."

I moved a bit closer to him.

"You're dead Sherlock. You fucking lying arse!"

"I know, let me-"

"You don't get to tell me anything."

"I-"

"I don't want to hear your voice."

I bit my cheek.

"How could you do that to me? For 2 years! No contact, nothing. I thought my best mate killed himself and I saw it all happen. Left me with the bloody awful call." He put his head between his knees. "Leave."

"Leave?" I knelt in front of him and placed my hand on his leg.

"Yes! Leave, get out of here. I don't want to see your face I've been fine for 2 years without it." John yelled at me.

"But-"

"Leave. You can come back if you want when I go back home-to my flat. With my wife."

I went down to Mrs. Hudson's because I couldn't leave through the throngs of reporters. This was good because maybe John wouldn't be able to go home either. We'd be holed up here for some time and we'd actually be able to have a proper talk.

"Oh dear, he's just in shock, he'll get over it soon enough."

I sat down for some tea and waited.

**John. Earlier in the day.**

"Would you like to come to Mrs. Hudson's for some tea?"

"No thank you darling, long shift last night." Mary pecked me on the cheek. "Tell her I said hello."

"I will."

Things have been going along just fine since my minor melt down on the anniversary of his jump. The frequencies of Sherlock sightings had slowed down. I've fallen into a nice routine again and Mary and I haven't had many rows. I've even lent a hand to Greg when there were a few cases he wanted my medical opinion on. It was nice. I had been carrying my gun around me everywhere too. I'm just worried that Moran's group is after me but it doesn't seem to be that way because nothing has happened. Everything has been boring, really.

"Oh John!" Mrs. Hudson was oddly happy over seeing me.

"Hello."

"Would you mind doing me a favour?"

"What's that?"

"There's a leak upstairs in the kitchen sink. Could you check it?"

"Sure." I looked up the stairs. I haven't been up to the flat since I came to collect my things.

I climbed the stairs slowly because I was nervous. I immediately told myself to stop being stupid over it because it's just a flat now.

Then I opened the door to find him standing in the middle of the living room. He was pale, skinnier than before, and he had bags under his eyes. He was ghost.

Everything that happened was a blur. I wouldn't let him explain these last 2 years and I forced him out of what now was his place again. As fast as he was back in my life, he was gone. It was like he was a figment of my imagination. But he wasn't that or a ghost because he put his hand on my knee and I felt the warmth of his body. He wasn't a bloody cold corpse. Leave it to Sherlock Holmes to rise from the dead.

I couldn't get my brain going. I couldn't move. I sat on the floor for what was probably an hour. I couldn't think even once I stood up. I was dropped into some alternative reality. It was all-wrong. I had a normal life. It took me 2 years but I was normal. Well for the most part, aside from carry my gun on me. But I was doing well. Here he was to mess it up. I wanted him back for so long and now he's here and its all wrong.

I looked out the window to see paparazzi. Now everyone knows. I guess I should take some sort of consolation that I was the first to know.

No, I wasn't the first. Why would I be the first? Mrs. Hudson obviously knew.

I sent a text to Lestrade telling him I couldn't get out of Baker Street and he said to give him 10 minutes to take care of it. He probably knew.

I went down to Mrs. Hudson's. "How long have you known?" I asked before turning into the kitchen to find her sitting with him.

"Only a day dear."

"Who else knows? Molly? Greg? Your brother? Does Mike know? My old rugby mates? People at the surgery?"

"John, I-" He blue eyes looked sad but that's his own fault.

"You what?"

"I did this so-"

"I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear you so shut up and bugger off."

He gestured to the window, "I would but the-"

"You've been hidden for over 2 years!" I shouted.

"Do keep it down John, they might hear." Mrs. Hudson was nervous.

"Hear what? That Holmes and Watson aren't going to be solving all the crimes in London…Not that I solved any crimes, I was just there to be your sodding secretary and take care of you. You've done fine with out me for all this time. Won't be needing me now."

"I h-"

"I can't listen to you. Don't speak."

"But you're talking to me!" He finally snapped then sunk into the chair.

"I'm waiting in the entry way to go be with the only person who hasn't lied to me."

"Mike hasn't lied." He said softly as I went outside.

He didn't realise that it confirmed to me that everyone else we were mutually friends with did.

Greg sent an officer to help usher me out and give me a ride home, which was crawling with people as well. Everyone was hurling questions at me. I just yelled I didn't know over and over again.

When I got upstairs to my flat Mary was glued to the TV. "He's-"

"Alive? Yeah. Mrs. Hudson got me there so he-" I just shook my head. "I was lied to by my friends."

"Did he tell you why?"

"I wouldn't let him."

She made a face. "According to the news this Moran character was working for Moriarty and the only way that you and your friends wouldn't get killed was for Sherlock to die. So he faked his own death and helped the government go after the rest of the web. The night that sniper tried to kill you Sherlock actually was the one who got him. They said that the police shot him but we know that's a lie."

"He did this for me." I laughed. "He saved his friends?" I couldn't stop laughing, just like the night of my book release.

"Why is it funny?"

"Because Sherlock doesn't do anything for anyone but himself, Mary." I finally sat on the couch. They were showing a clip of him walking out of Scotland Yard yesterday before cutting to a reporter in from of 221B. "He looks so clever. He's tearing at the seams right now to tell someone how he jumped and survived and how he hid. He wasn't working with the government, that's Mycroft's doing."

"I thought you'd be so happy." Mary looked confused.

"Is there a way you should act in this situation of your former best mate rising from the grave?"

"No but…I thought you'd be ecstatic."

"How can I be when everyone was lying to me?" We sat in silence for some time, just watching the news. They were all speculating about Sherlock but he'll tell them soon enough. "He'll want everything to be back to normal." I said abruptly.

"Huh?" She seemed a bit surprised I spoke.

"He'll want me around, he'll think that I'll be there to go running about London in the middle of the night."

"I don't think he'll think you'll want to do anything if you didn't even speak to him."

"You don't know Sherlock."

It felt strange to talk about him in the present tense.


	10. Chapter 10

**John. October 19th, 2014.**

"Darling, are you not going into work?" Mary asked me. I had camped out on the couch with the TV on all night. I needed to make sure it wasn't all in my head. When I woke up from only sleeping for 3 hours the news was still going on about Sherlock being a live so I wasn't nutter.

"I won't be able to go anywhere without having a million questions shoved at me. They'll probably be coming after you too."

"I'll survive the day. Want to make dinner for me?"

I smiled, "I will." I leaned up to kiss her.

"Be back tonight, don't mull over this too much you already have enough wrinkles." She chuckled before rushing out the door.

An hour later Molly showed up, she somehow got by the police that were stationed outside. "What is it?" Lovely, one of my lying friends.

"I needed, um-here muffins and a coffee." She handed me the bag and paper cup.

"Molly, what could you possibly want?"

"It's…it's not my place to say what you should do but I think you should sit and talk with Sherlock."

"Why? He didn't talk to me for years."

"Because he-la-he did it for you."

"That's what they say. He did it for his friends."

"He did it for you. That's what he's said since it happened."

"He told you?" I finally let her inside my flat.

"Well of course, he needed my help when he realised what Moriarty wanted from him. Mycroft and I were the only one's who knew for the longest time. Up until the night you were almost shot."

"Why didn't he just tell me?"

"That's what you need to ask him. I don't have much right to tell you about his feelings."

"Feelings? Emotions? Sherlock Holmes-"

"Has those things when you're involved."

I sipped the coffee; she still remembered how I took it.

"Just, please, talk to him. When I went to visit last night he seemed upset."

"The only time Sherlock is upset is if he can't solve a case or when he has actual human emotions."

"You think he has actual human emotions?" She picked up on me contradicting myself.

"Sometimes he did and when he did he used to get scared."

"Maybe he's scared."

The image of a scared Sherlock popped into my head from Dartmoor. When I saw him scared I wanted to wrap my arms around him to say it was ok but I didn't. Then he yelled at me and told me that he didn't have or need any friends, which squashed any ideas of wanting to comfort him. The next day he attempted to apologise to me by saying I was a conductor of light for his genius. Looking back at it now I'm sure he only kept me around to massage his mind and massive ego.

"Just please, talk to him. I'm afraid he might start doing drugs again, he saw a lot during these last 2 years."

"Call Lestrade to 221B for a drugs bust then." I spoke snidely.

"John it's not funny."

I thought for a few seconds. It would make sense to at least hear him out once, let him put it all out on the table to try to convince me that what happened was in the best interest for everyone. I should get it from him and not the media or Molly. "I'll go, how do I get out of here and over there without anyone noticing?"

"Oh, I'm not sure. Maybe you can go round back and I'll pick you up there? Not sure if you'll be able to get into Baker Street." She frowned.

I got out of my flat just fine but when I arrived at 221B it was a nightmare. "This is why I should have stayed home."

"He murdered people for you, John, I think you can push through some nosey paparazzi." The way Molly said the words cut through me like a knife.

Luckily the officers posted outside helped a little by making a small path for me. When I got to the door Mrs. Hudson was there to hug me, "I'm so glad you came back, told him you would."

"I owe him a conversation, right?"

"You might owe him more."

I found Sherlock plucking at his violin on his cushy chair. He was lounging in his blue dressing gown over a white cotton shirt and stripped blue pyjama bottoms, staring into space. He was lost in some thought process. I cleared my throat before sitting on the couch because my sitting in my former usual chair just felt too strange to me.

"John!" He perked up. The only times I've heard him say my name like that was when he made a break through on a case. "I'm delighted you came back." He calmed his voice.

"Yeah, well, I wanted to…I need to know all about what happened, everything, the last 2 years."

He worried at his bottom lip, sending an image into my head of my teeth replacing his. Apparently my body missed him more than I thought, not that it ever had him before. Not like I want him that much. "Well, where?"

"From when you realised what Moriarty was doing to you."

"After we left Kitty's," He sprung to his feet and began to pace. "That's when I knew he needed me dead. I had 2 options in my head. 1 was that I could figure out the code and erase him and fix everything or the 2nd one was I had to die. For the second one I went to Molly, falling off a roof of that height is something that you can easily survive if you know how to fall correctly but I needed blood and other people around. I sent a text to the Homeless network for the audience and also for someone to call you for Mrs. Hudson.

On the roof he revealed to me what I had already known but he took out the first option for me by first telling me the code was a sham and then shooting himself when I thought I could save everyone by having him. So I had to jump. I called you because I needed you to believe me, to fully believe I was dead because you're a shit liar, you have so many tells. If you knew, you would have been dead. You and Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade, he would have killed you all. I'm sure they had a close eye on you because we were flat mates. I needed to completely detach from you to make this work.

"I called you to tell you that I was a fake so maybe you'd believe me. Of course you didn't because you're so loyal. I also had that man hit you with his bike so we could get the blood in my hair and to also give you the slightest concussion."

My gut lurched at the picture in my head of him on the ground, "How'd you stop your pulse?"

"That ball I was playing with, I simply squeezed it under my armpit. You were severely disorientated as well due to a slight concussion and the shock of seeing me fall so it wasn't that hard to fool you. Molly of course faked my records with Mycroft's and my help. I stayed with her that night because she was the least assuming one. I also began my hunt for Moran. I took up a hotel room on the other side of London for 2 weeks while researching the web and resting a small injury to my leg and wrist from the fall. Mycroft and I also gathered information on Larsson and basically handed that to Lestrade on a silver platter to clear everyone's name." He took a deep breath.

"Once I got a trail I spent almost a year out of the country killing my way through the network, hiding in terrible places in countries I had no desire to ever be. I came so close the night of your book release to catching Moran and finally ending it."

"Ah, the night I was almost killed." I was so into his story it was like I wasn't even a part of it, it was like we were talking about a case of 2 different men.

"Yes, I was purposely being seen so I could flush him out but Moran didn't do the job of killing you himself, he sent someone else."

"You killed him, you shot the gunman?"

"Yes."

"Should have known it, you're a bloody awful shot."

The corners of his mouth turned down, "I was on the roof across the way while you were up there, had to jump over when I heard you open the door."

I just nodded. I wasn't too surprised he was there that night.

"That's the night Greg found out. I heard you laughing hysterically and made the mistake of popping my head up and he saw me."

"Surprised he didn't yell after you."

"I sent him a quick text."

"Still surprised."

"Moving on, I spent another 7 months tracking Moran down. Those last 7 really felt longer than the previous months. I shot him in right temple yesterday afternoon and that's all. Well not all, I could get into the details of who I killed, when, where, but I'll spare the details now unless you want me to explain literally everything."

I rubbed my face. "Did you follow me one day…" I paused. "2 days?"

"Well I wanted to make sure you were all right a couple months after I had disappeared. Then I attended you're wedding."

"If anything this makes me happy I'm not crazy."

"No, you're rather sane. Rather normal, John." He was finally standing still in front of me. "Then there was one time, 4 months ago on the anniversary of my jump."

"When-"

"I was at Mycroft's so I came into your room which actually was my room. I wanted to be sure you didn't choke on your own vomit." He cast his eyes down like he was ashamed. "That party was ghastly according to my brother."

"Mmm, right and yes it was."

Now that I finally understood the whole story I didn't feel angry or upset with him but I did still feel strange. I couldn't pin point why I felt odd. Maybe it was just the shock of it all. I missed him so much for so long and he was ok and alive in front of me. "What are you going to do now Sherlock?"

"Return to my old duties, consulting. I do hope my blogger will join me." He grinned, running a hand through his unruly mass of curls.

"Sherlock, I'm not your blogger anymore." I broke to him. "I'm a married doctor. I haven't even updated my blog since before the release party."

"That's odd because you're life has been a bit more exciting since then." He picked up his bow. I could tell he was upset. I knew he'd do this, want everything to be the way it was before.

"I'm sorry. It's just Mary and I are ha-"

"It's fine." He started to play a tune I hadn't heard with a slight smile on his face. He wasn't alight with it but he'd adjust, he's been fine without me for 2 years.

"Sherlock, don't be like this."

"Like what?" He stopped again.

"Acting like I haven't hurt your feelings when I clearly have."

"No, I understand you're a married man."

"Ok." I sat on the couch and watched him play.

I felt like I was in another world, like it was before actually. This was surreal. But I was glad that I came because I've missed this world so much. I missed him so much. I guess the anger I had yesterday was part of some odd type of acceptance process.

"You're still my friend though?" He questioned, still playing.

"If you asked me yesterday I'd say no but now, yes, we're still friends. How could I not be a friend to the man who saved my life?"

"Very good then."

I let him finish his tune until I asked him, "How many times did you get hurt?" His injuries were fairly obvious. My heart sank at the idea of him being injured and alone while trying to hunt down the man who was supposed to kill me-us all.

"Hmm?"

"I can tell you're nursing injuries."

"Fascinating, tell me where." His smile was so big that I thought I was going to be blind.

"Your right shoulder, you're holding the violin awkwardly. You have a slight limp in your left leg. There's a bump in your nose, I assume that it was broken probably in a fight. One of your ribs are broken, I could tell when you stood up from your chair." I smiled at my own deductions.

"Excellent. Sparkling form."

"Have you had them checked?" I stood up and moved over to him, putting my hand on his right shoulder.

"I'm fine John." Sherlock's face was so close to mine, I could feel his breath on my skin.

"I just want to make sure you're ok, that's the most I can do for you right?"

"Yes but I'm healing, Mycroft forced me to see a doctor last night." My hand was still on his shoulder. "Shall we get take away for lunch?"

"You actually think the delivery person will be able to get up here?"

"It's worth a try. I haven't had Chinese take away for a very long time."

"Well, you've been dead…so…" I chuckled. I was proud of my self for joking about it.

**Sherlock. Earlier In The Day.**

I made the horrify discovery, that returning home from being dead is an extremely hard task to do. I didn't understand why John was so angry with me. I just wanted to hug him and maybe kiss him because people do that when they reunite. I wanted to find a crime a to solve so we could get started on being our old selves that very night. But he just wanted to push me out and away. I did let him push me out and away. He sat upstairs for an hour while I waited at Mrs. Hudson's. He was very much in shock but there was nothing I could do about it because I was the cause.

When he left I went up to my room to try to calm down until Mycroft's doctor he sent over came to check my various injuries. Then Molly stopped by, asking a million questions about John and how it went. It was somewhat annoying for her to pelt me with these questions of his reaction but I didn't get angry with her because I figured I owed her something. She said that he needed time; it was probably a normal reaction.

I thrilled when he came back and let me explain. I wasn't sure what he wanted to know so I went with an overview, which was sufficient enough because he seemed to be very satisfied with it. There was a moment when he came over to check my injuries, like the good doctor that he is, which I thought he might even kiss me. But I was wrong. I also didn't like that he wasn't going to be my blogger anymore and I wouldn't be able to use him on cases. But he said he was still going to be my friend. What does that mean?

"What does this friendship now entail?" I questioned as John found plates to put our food on. "I'm only asking because it is unfamiliar territory for us."

"Oh, ah…" His brow furrowed, he clearly hasn't thought of what a friendship with me would be like without working and living together.

"Drinks, dinner, lunch, tea, movies, walks, talking and texts to tell me about your latest mysteries, and you can come over for dinner to meet Mary. Oh we can do dinner soon, I think that'd be good." He stood straight up, shoulders back. He was proud of his marriage.

I winced at Mary's name but he was turned away from me so it was ok. "If I can ever get out of 221B."

"Give it a few more days, it will die down. When you can get out of the door we'll do a thing."

"Yes, that's good." I forced a smile.

"I would say you'll love Mary but I know that's not true. You probably know everything about her already from being at our wedding."

I thought for a second because he wouldn't like it if I told him all about her because never enjoyed it when I did it to his dates in the past. "Maybe."

"Wow, you have changed. Holding back deductions." He pressed his lips together. He was impressed with me.

"Kind, I'm being kind. Is this ok?"

"Its…very ok." John was happy. He was content until there was a flash of panic across his face. "How many people did you kill?" Odd jump.

"I don't know…" I wasn't proud to say it. Should I have been? I'm not sure. Being unsure of myself in these situations is new to me.

"If know how many types of tobacco ash there are, you know how many people you killed." He looked a bit frustrated.

"12."

He stepped back, his mouth gaping.

"I've killed people before."

"That's just a lot of people for me…and your other friends…and yourself of course." His face was white.

I reached over the table and gripped his arm. "I'm ok." I smiled because it seemed like the correct thing to do.

"You are." He sighed and nodded. John looked at me like he remembered again that I was alive and well. "You're ok."

"I had many more arrested." There was a quiet moment. "Did I mention that I'm surprised you settled into a domestic life?"

"With a woman you mean? We were pretty domestic." His shoulders relaxed.

"I guess we were." I nodded.

"Yeah, I'm settled and I guess you could be surprised because around you none of my girlfriends wanted to stick around. You scared them off."

"I'm sorry for that."

"Don't fret over it." He grinned. "I have Mary now and that's all that matters."

I got to keep him until he said he had to leave to cook dinner for _Mary_. Was it horrible to have thoughts about scaring off Mary? Being alone in 221B is terrible. I just wanted John back.


	11. Chapter 11

**John. October 27th, 2014.**

I was extremely happy that he was back for a couple of days, I went to visit him at 221B a few days in a row because he was unable to leave Baker Street without getting mobbed still. Visiting was a task but I did it any way because I needed to remind myself that he was alive. Most of the time Greg, Molly, or Mike tagged along or they were already there so we weren't always alone. When we were alone we sat in silence as I watched TV or read while he played violin or did some experiments. I could tell he missed doing lab work while he was away. Like normal I wasn't ever sure what he was working on but he was enjoying it.

My life at the surgery was put on hold because reporters were booking exams just to try to get me to answer questions. They were harassing Mary a bit too, one even claimed I was going to leave her for Sherlock. She laughed about it because she thought it would crazy, me leaving her for a man. She doesn't know that I've had those thoughts about kissing Sherlock or how I've second-guessed who I am because of him. I wouldn't tell her though. That'd bring up too much.

But things were ok. I went a few days without seeing Sherlock because I thought our time alone together would set us on the wrong track and he'd think everything was the same as it was. But on the third day a new wave of pain flooded over me while I was standing over the kitchen sink. It was so strong that I felt like collapsing. It was like him returning just happened a second ago. Then when I got over the shock of him being ok I realised I still didn't understand why he did it. I know why he did it, for important people in his life. Molly said that he did it for me. But why? He could have easily walked away. He disturbed his whole life for something that could have killed him or any of us no matter what. Not only did he disturb his life but he murdered people for me-for us.

My heart felt like it was going to burst.

"Why's it hurt so much?" I asked out loud, forgetting my wife was in the kitchen.

"What hurts?" Mary looked scared.

"I-I just don't know."

"Are you hurt?"

"No-" I just shook my head.

"Is it about Sherlock?" She might as well have added 'because everything is about Sherlock'.

"Yeah."

"What?"

She wouldn't understand because she didn't understand anything about Sherlock. She tried her hardest but she just never understood.

"I need a walk."

"That might be good." She kissed me. "When you come home I'll make you feel better." She smirked.

I stopped by the old flat because I needed to talk to Sherlock about why he really did it. Granted he probably would never tell me the whole truth. When I arrived Mycroft was sitting in my old chair. He had terrible timing. "Ah, John, I need to speak to you. Perfect."

"What is Mycroft?" I grumbled. I didn't want to deal with him right now.

Sherlock brushed by me, sending a tingle down my spine as he passed. "I'm glad you're here John, I want to share some thing with you as soon as my brother is done." He flicked his hand in the direction of Mycroft then smiled at me before splaying himself out across the floor over paperwork and next to a crash test dummy.

"John, how would you like to be the one to publish the story on Sherlock's adventures in the year he had disappeared and your reaction to him coming home."

"Ha, ah, no." I shook my head. "I'm not writing a book about that."

"Do think it over."

"You're going to make me lie about things. I don't even know if I want to know about all the stuff that he has done. Plus I don't want people to know how I reacted to him being back, how I'm angry with him."

"Present tense?" Sherlock looked up at me like a hurt puppy dog.

"No, I _was_ angry with you."

"If you two are about to have a tiff, I'm off. I'm sure you'll come around John, you always do."

When Mycroft left Sherlock was worrying at his lip, looking at the paper in front of him but I knew he was thinking about what I had said. "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry about, don't be absurd John." He's so good at playing off his emotions, it's disturbing.

"I'm still working out how I feel about-this." I sat on the floor with him. "It's like some type of terrible roller coaster I'm on."

"Oh."

"Why'd you do it?"

"I told you why."

"No but you were willing to disappear for how ever long it took for people you cared about. You're very confusing because you told me once that you didn't have friends then you said you only had one and it was me. But then you did this for more than just me. Or you did it for just me. If you did it for just me, I'm just…I want to let you know that you could have let them shoot me. You didn't have to kill 12 people for me."

"But I did, I had to. It was the only way to get things back to-normal." He looked like he had just remembered something horrible; nothing was normal to him. He's been stuck in the flat for a week now and I'm not here, I'm married. He hasn't been on a case in ages. "Plus John, you had a normal life to begin with. People would have been terribly sad to see you die. You have family."

"Do you forget when you met me I had nothing? I was walking with a limp, living alone in tiny flat that I couldn't afford on my pension? Then I met you and it all changed. Then you walked off the roof of St. Barts and I had nothing all over."

"But now you have everything." He reached up like he wanted to touch my face but stopped himself and rubbed his own forehead. I almost wished that he would have and then he would have kissed me. Get it over with.

I have Mary, I can't do that.

"Everything?" I laughed.

"You have your job and Mary, Mike and you are best mates now. I hear you see the rugby blokes every so often. Greg's asked you for your opinion a few times."

I nodded.

"What is it?" Sherlock never liked when he couldn't read me and I could tell by his face that it was one of those moments.

"I missed you." I said it because I never said in the last week. "I missed you a lot, every day. You were my best mate."

"Past tense now."

"Sorry."

"Am I not your best mate anymore?"

"No, of course you are."

"You're confusing me with your tenses."

"Sorry." I let out an exasperated sigh. "You do know that people were very hurt by you dying right? Especially me"

"I'm sorry." He really was.

"It's tough, it's a hard adjustment to have you suddenly back in my life. I had to adjust to you not being in my life but now here you are again. It's going to take some time and I might be rough on you some days."

"I can take it." He could take anything. He's so adaptable.

"Look, Mary really wants to meet you so I'd like you to come over next Saturday to my flat."

"Sure."

"Good, the mob outside has been dying down each day so by then you should be good to go."

"I hope so, I've been taking walks at night but I really miss the day. I haven't seen it much in 2 years."

"You've been a vampire." I joked.

"John, your imagination is remarkable."

"I didn't even elaborate."

"I know you're thinking of me sucking blood out of these people I killed."

"Now who has the imagination." I looked at the dummy and the papers.

**Sherlock.**

John was uptight. He had a slight limp as well when he walked into the flat. He's having a much harder time accepting the fact that I am alive than I had thought he would. But our small talk seemed to help. He wants me to understand him. I will have to try my best to accommodate his emotional needs. I think I've done fairly well so far.

"What's this all about now? Is this why you wanted to talk to me? Some random experiment about car crashes?" He tapped my ATD.

"Actually it was going to go along with Mycroft's question about the book. I wanted to start on showing you the science of my jump but I now understand that you are not interested."

"Yeah, Sherlock, I don't want to go on any roofs with you any time soon."

"Ok, that's fine." I stood up and went to the couch. "Shall we watch TV?"

"I think I should get going."

"Molly is coming over, are you sure you don't want to say?" It would save me the terrible conversations about my feelings that she always wants to have.

"I can't, Mary's waiting. I told her I'd be quick." He was going to have sex.

"Right, see you soon?"

"No matter what I'll see you on Saturday."

"Yes, I will be there. Does Mary drink?"

"Yeah, that's a weird quest-oh you know her dad's an alcoholic too."

I shrugged, not looking at him.

"It's ok, I knew you were hiding deductions about her and her family. Yeah, she drinks. She'd rather red to white wine."

"I'll bring some."

John was out the door with a quick good bye.

Around dinnertime Molly came over with Thai take away and the set of lungs she had promised me. "Any, um, news?"

"News about what, Molly?" I put the lungs in the refrigerator.

"John, when are you going to tell him you love him?"

"For someone who was attracted to me you are awfully worried about my relationship with John. Why is that?"

"It was a crush. I don't have one anymore." She didn't, I could tell.

"I still don't understand why you care."

"You're my friend, don't want to see you-sad." Molly smiled, trying to comfort me. Was it that obvious that I was upset about John? I'm usually very good at hiding these things. She picked up on this over 2 years ago in the lab at St. Barts when she knew I was sad when I didn't think John could really see me. She was right but it didn't matter. All that mattered was I was back, at least, and I could be close to John. If I'm close to John then I'm ok. I don't need him sexually close to me to be all right.

"I'm brilliant, fine."

"I wish you'd stop lying to me Sherlock." She pouted. "One day you will actually have real conversation about your feelings."

"I'm not sure what that is going to do for me."

"It will make you better."

"How?"

"You won't be keeping it to yourself, maybe it will help you think."

"I'm not sure about that."

"Ok."

"I am going to their flat next weekend for dinner. I'm sure it will be dreadful."

She laughed because she was anxious, "Don't poison Mary."


	12. Chapter 12

**Sherlock. November 1st, 2014.**

"2005, Côtes du Rhône rouge du Château Mont-Redon. I hope it compliments our dinner. I should have asked before." I handed the bottle to John after he greeted me at the door of his flat.

"We're having beef tenderloin."

"Perfect, it is best served with red meat dishes."

He looked at the bottle for a second. He was unsure of what to do, that was strange because this is a situation John should be able to handle with ease. It's a normal thing, having people over for dinner. He was always trying to make me have people over for a drinks thing when we lived together. Probably nervous about me, doesn't want me messing things up with Mary because I hurt the rest of his relationships.

"Are you going to invite me inside?"

"Yes, come on, follow me."

I entered the flat. It was Mary's flat with only a few things of John's. He had a hard time making himself at home, probably because he was holding out hope that I would be back and he'd end up back on Baker Street. There were a couple of John's book on the shelf, his shoes and coat was next to the door, and his laptop stationed on the coffee table in front of his usual seat on the couch (left side) and those were the only real traces of John that I could see. I'm sure he had a small space in the closet and armoire, a place in the bathroom for his things, and he set his cane by the bed (left side). He could easily pick up and go at anytime. I know that he wasn't doing these things consciously because he convinced himself that he loved Mary and would never leave her. John's loyal.

"Sherlock! Oh it's so nice to finally meet you!" Mary was over enthusiastic.

John looked at me critically.

"You too." Right answer, John relaxed a little.

"He brought wine."

"John said you liked red."

"I do, John why don't you get us some of the white and save this for dinner? Can I take your coat?" She smiled with her entire face. She was trying way too hard.

"Oh, yes." I took my coat off.

"That's-" John looked at the coat. "How'd you get that?" He had a very strange reaction, as if the coat scared him.

"You left it on my grave, Mycroft's people retrieved it for me." I said taking off the coat and scarf.

"The blood-"

"Molly got it all out." I looked to my shoes after handing my things to Mary.

"Oh." He pinched the bridge of his nose. I wasn't sure why this stressed him out. "I'll get our the wine now."

He disappeared into the kitchen, "He's very happy that you've come over. John says you don't have normal social interactions." She's blunt, I do like that. She was a little nervous too, probably worried about her first encounter with me after the stories John has told her.

"It's only because I find normal boring."

"How's that?" She sat on the couch, right side. Maybe this is why John and I couldn't be in a relationship because I like sitting on the left side of the couch and sleeping on the left side of the bed. At the flat we used to have to alternate sitting on the left. He was slightly uncomfortable when he had to sit on the right.

"It's predictable." I stayed standing.

"You get bored when you do normal things? That why you don't date?"

"Dating gets in the way. It's tedious. Boring."

"Sherlock could never date anyone." John said before handing me a glass of wine. "No one could ever stand him long enough."

"Oh, don't be so mean to your best mate."

"He's right." I nodded in agreement.

John sat right next to Mary. She put her hand on his leg. She was possessive with her body language, like she wanted to show me that he was hers. Maybe it was her being protective for what I did to John when I disappeared.

"I'm sure there's someone out there for you."

"I'm not in the market for someone." I said in my most assuring voice. "Too busy."

"Has Greg called you in on any cases?" John changed the topic of my love life.

"Not yet, waiting for the media storm to die down I assume. I hope he calls soon, I'm absolutely dying for one."

"You haven't had any clients contact you?"

"Too many."

"Sort through them, sure something will strike you."

"I've concluded that it would be a good idea for me to wait at least another month before taking on cases that aren't from Scotland Yard. Too many fakes."

"Hmm."

"What can you deduce from me Sherlock?" Mary asked like it was some party trick.

John sat back.

"John doesn't want me to, I've done that with his girlfriends in the past and they've all hated me."

"I can take it. I have thicker skin than John thinks." She kissed him, I turned on my heel to look towards the kitchen.

"It's not a good idea."

"Fine, just one thing."

"Sherlock can't do one thing." John laughed. "He never has one thought."

I finally turned back to look at them. "You're happy and content in your marriage. You've gained-ah-weight since you got married, you're letting your natural colour grow back in for the first time in 7 years, and you haven't had a manicure in 13 days."

"Fairly delicate." John took a long sip.

"How'd you know it's been 7 years since I've had my natural colour?"

"The picture over there," I pointed to the one of her and her best friend from 2007. "And the one from the year before there." I gestured to the one of her and her father below it.

"You're good and the nails?"

"Mary, stop." John rolled his eyes.

"Fine, no more." The right corner of her mouth curled up. She was a very low-level thrill seeker. Aside from having the stereotypical looks that John was strongly attracted to (nice eyes, just short enough for him, and had what he would call a good ass) he would love this part of her most.

"Right, Sherlock?"

"Yeah, no more from me." I stuck my hands in my pockets. "I'm very hungry." I said because it was very quiet for too many seconds.

"That's surprising because John said that you never eat."

"John forgets that I also am human and that I have to eat, it is essential for me to survive and for my brain to work. I wouldn't be able to do my work if my brain didn't function. It's just unnecessary for me to eat as much as John."

"Let me check to see if it's ready." Mary squeezed John's knee then gracefully walked into the kitchen.

"I've never seen you this normal. It'd be better if you sat though."

"Why?"

"You're sort of-imposing."

"Oh." I went to sit but Mary came out.

"Dinner's ready boys." Mary leaned on the door frame.

"Well, I'll sit at the table John." I finished the rest of my wine.

**John. Later.**

"Did I do well?" Sherlock asked me as we went towards the door. He was fairly tipsy.

"You did. I think that she may even like you." I watched him put on his coat with a bit of trouble. That coat, the bloody thing I used to wrap myself up in and think about him. I felt like he had no right wearing it.

"Good, she's very-nice." He opened the door. "I'll see you then, John?" Sherlock put his hand on my shoulder. This was a strange gesture for him.

"Of course." I hugged him. We never really hugged before. We've held hands while running from the cops but we'd never embraced. I'm not even sure why I hugged him.

He stiffened up. I'm not sure if he's ever hugged anyone in his life other than Mrs. Hudson.

"I'll see you in a couple of days?"

"Ah, sure" He spoke as I pulled away. "I had a very enjoyable evening. Thank Mary for me?"

"Ha, yeah." Since when did he do pleasantries?

"Goodbye John." He looked like he wanted to say something else but instead he turned away.

"Careful not to act drunk out there, tabloids will go crazy."

Sherlock laughed as he went down the hall, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. I thought about lecturing him but I let it go and went back in.

"I like him. He can be a bit odd but he's nothing like I thought." Mary wrapped her arms around me in the middle of the living room.

"He was toning his eccentricities down. He's a great actor."

"Well I hope that he visits here more."

"Don't wish that, he'll want to be here all the time and you don't want that to happen."

"Why? You lived with him."

"Because he'll make a mess."

"Like he made a mess of you?"

"That's a weird thing to say." I gave her a confused look.

"He hurt you. He made you a mess. You got better and then he came back and you were a mess again. But you're better now."

"Ah, yeah, he does like his messes but he does them with only the intention to solve things."

"I think that's one thing that'll annoy me about him."

"What?"

"He doesn't care if he hurts people's feelings."

"He just doesn't understand people's feelings."

"He doesn't care."

"He cares." Sometimes.

"Ok." She kissed me. "Its time I go to sleep, early shift."

"Alright…" I didn't like that she was leaving the conversation like that but it was going to be one of those things she didn't get about Sherlock. His understanding of feelings is lower than his understanding of the solar system. It's just useless to him.

After I wrote out a text to Sherlock:

_Mary said you don't care about my feelings but I know that's not true. –JW_

I knew he wouldn't answer me so I just deleted it. Things would be easier in my life if he expressed himself like everyone else. Things would also be easier if I could have just kissed him once before he jumped off of St. Barts. Maybe things would have been different, he would have told me, I would have disappeared too with him, and I would have been ok for 2 years. Now I'm just stuck with this strange sexual desire for him. I hate it because I love Mary.

What if I just tried it though? Just one kiss, maybe it would all go away.

Right as I was drifting off to sleep I received a text for him.

_Lestrade called! Serial strangler, John! Oh it feels good to be back –SH_

_Remember not to get too excited over a crime scene. Also hope you're not still pissed. –JW_

_I'm sober enough. Wish you'd join -SH_

_I'm about to go to sleep with Mary -JW_

_Strange, thought she was going to bed hours ago –SH_

_Goodnight Sherlock, good luck with the case -JW_

I couldn't fall asleep the rest of the night and called the next morning for all the details.


	13. Chapter 13

_**Sherlock. December 8**__**th**__**, 2014.**_

I awoke with a jolt, my heartbeat was elevated, I was sweating, and breathing hard. I keep having these recurring dreams that Moran is still alive and he ends up killing John before I can get to him. My subconscious still thinks it has to protect John but I don't, he's safer than he could ever be.

I padded down to the kitchen for a pot of tea and caught a familiar scent before I even entered, "Ms. Adler?" I said before finding her already having a cup of tea at the table.

"Hello darling." She grinned like she was up to something devious. "So glad to see you."

"What do you want?"

"Honestly I was in town and wanted a safe place to stay."

"You could have texted." I poured myself a cup.

"I like surprising you, it's rather fun."

"What are you here for?"

"Business."

"Hopefully something good."

"Oh, no, it's very bad." Irene relaxed. "How's John?"

"Why do people always ask me about John?"

"Do we have to go over this again?"

I rolled my eyes. Tedious conversation.

"I guess you didn't have sex when you reunited or he'd be here tonight."

"Why would we do that?"

"Because that's what couples do, Sherlock."

"We're not a couple."

"I've heard that before." She sipped her tea. "I'd wish you'd just kiss him."

"What will that do?"

"He'd be back here, you'd be happy."

"How do you know?"

"I'm good at reading those sorts of things." She paused. "It tells a lot when you don't deny wanting to kiss him."

I groaned. I hate these conversations. Tedious. "Can we talk about something worth while?"

"This is worth while. Sex can be very important."

"If I haven't needed it up until this point in my life then why start now?"

"Maybe you'd be a little more normal and in touch with other people's feelings. Understanding how to work with emotions can give you even more of an advantage."

"I do very well at playing with other's emotions now."

"You could do better." She reminded me. "So how is this Mary, his wife?"

"She's fine, boring, not very clever, but she could be worse."

"He really loves her?"

I shrugged.

"You wouldn't be so sad if you told him." Irene put her hand on top of mine.

I sighed, "I lost him once. If I told him, I'd lose him again." I looked down at my tea.

"How do you know?"

"You've seen how he reacted when people accused us of being a couple before."

"You told me that he felt attraction to you on several different occasions."

"But he doesn't want it."

"If you say so."

"He felt uncomfortable after each one of those times."

"Maybe if you acted on it, it'd be different."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"I do, you don't."

"You don't know John as well as I know him-don't tell me you know what he likes."

"John likes you, that's what he likes. Everyone you around has seen it, not sure why you two keep denying it."

"I hate this conversation."

"Sherlock, stop being daft."

"I'm not being daft."

"You're naïve when it comes to sex and relationships-"

"Because they're useless to me."

"Maybe if it's with John it wouldn't be."

"Stop it." I said firmly. "I'm going back to sleep."

"So you can have another nightmare and yell out for John?" She read something on her phone.

"I yelled out for John?" This surprised me.

"Yes."

"Well it was a dream about him…Moran had killed him."

"Oh…have you asked him on any cases?"

"He's declined each time. I think I need to stop asking him."

"That's too bad."

"It is?"

"You two work swimmingly together." She yawned.

"Long day?"

"Mmm, yes." Her eye lids looked as if they were going to snap shut at any moment.

"Get some sleep." I suggested.

"Mind if I sleep in his old room? I know you don't want me in your bed."

"I-no, why would I care if you slept in there?"

"No reason."

"I'm not sentimental over a space."

"Sure you aren't." She kissed me on the cheek. "Good night dear, I might not be here in the morning but I'll try to stop by one more time before I leave the city again."

"Please do and we can talk about something other than John."

"I like the topic of you and him though." Irene said walking towards his room.

I was going to text John about the surprise visit but then I remembered that he thought she was killed. I think handling one person coming back from the dead a year is enough for normal people.

**John. The Next Day.  
**_Very interesting death, no obvious signs of trauma and no poison in blood screening. –SH_

I read Mary the text as she was curling her hair before work. "He's just baiting me now." I've received 33 texts since November from Sherlock trying to get me to join him on cases. Only 5 of them have asked me out right to come along.

"Maybe you should do one case, you helped Greg."

"Yeah, Greg didn't have me getting a bomb strapped to my chest."

"It doesn't sound like you could be near death with this one." She chuckled. "Just go down to the morgue and have a look."

"You don't understand that it's a very slippery slope with him."

"Then tell him to stop texting you about it."

"Then we won't have much to talk about."

"John, you need to work with him on a case." She said rather convincingly.

"Why?"

"Because I can tell you want to. If you don't soon then I'm going to go down to a crime scene one day for you."

I laughed.

"Go to the bloody morgue!"

_I'm on my way –JW_

When I walked in the lab Molly was surprised to see me, "He didn't tell me you were coming." She spoke softly. Sherlock was hunched over some papers in the corner.

"He finally broke me. Well I think he broke Mary who made me come."

"Anyway it's good you're here." She smiled.

Sherlock spun around with a smile on his face, "John, you're here."

"Can I see the reports?"

He handed me a file.

I glanced over the paper work for a minute in silence, "And no signs of trauma? No gunshot wounds? No needle marks? What about asphyxiation? Heart attack? Stroke? Anything?"

"Nothing. She was perfectly healthy, there's nothing strange in the blood screenings at all or in the exam." His fingers were in the shape of a pyramid under his chin, clearly coming up with different causes of death.

"I need to see the body."

"This way!" Sherlock beamed. "I'm pleased you've come down here."

"Me too." I did miss it a lot. "But this doesn't mean you can call me at 2 in the morning for any case related duty."

"I know."

"Good." I patted his back as we walked.

"This is a solid 8."

So it began again. The next night he texted me at 1am, I did say not to call at 2am, and of course I went out.


	14. Chapter 14

**Sherlock December 23rd, 2014.**

I had invited Lestrade, Molly, John, Mary, and Mrs. Hudson over for drinks to celebrate the holiday. John was thinking about doing it at his flat but I told him that 221B could use more visits and Mrs. Hudson's hip was in pain so she didn't want to go too far. What I didn't tell him was Irene had asked me what I was doing so I had told her I was going to John's but really I was waiting for her here. I came to the conclusion that she had left something important here but I wasn't sure what or where. I don't understand why she has to do that with me.

"Why didn't you invite your brother Sherlock?" Mary placed a bag of gifts on the table. Her and John were late. They had been fighting. It can only be about John working with me so much at odd hours.

John laughed at his wife's question.

"We don't get on well."

"Oh." She was very angry and trying to hide it.

"Would you like some wine Mary?" Molly was acting obviously nervous. She dislikes being around John, Mary, and I all at once. It's strange because nothing has ever happened.

"Thank you, I'll get it myself though."

"This is your second year as a married couple on Christmas, right dear?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"Yes-"

"Mmm no more confirmed bachelor John Watson." Irene had a large grin as she entered the room. "Oh Sherlock, I should have known you lied."

"Of course I did."

John was utterly confused, looking between her and I.

"You left something, I don't know what or where but I know there's something." I hated that she could fool me.

"You do know why he hated the term?"

"What? Oh confirmed bachelor? Yes, because in the Victorian times if often meant homosexual." I watched Irene, seeing if she'd give me a tell to where she was hiding whatever it was. "Don't be an idiot, of course that's why."

"I actually didn't know that and, um, Irene you're dead!" John stood up. He was now aggravated with Irene and me. "Mary this is Irene Adler-who should be dead."

"Hello Mary." Irene laughed, sitting on the couch. "Sherlock why didn't you just tell him that I was alive?"

"I told you I'd help you disappear."

"I thought you were upset when she supposedly died. That's it. No one is fake dying anymore for any reasons. I don't even care about you Irene but for his sake and my sanity don't die." He was very agitated.

"I'm sorry John, Mr. Yaakov here has put me in a terrible position of ruining a lovely holiday." She was pressed her lips together. "While I'm here I might as well have a drink. Mind dear?" She cocked an eyebrow at me.

"I'll get you one for you once you tell me what's hidden and where it is."

"Again with the hiding and keeping things with you two. Can you just get married and be over with it? Also Yaakov?"

"You don't tell our poor Doctor anything." Irene shook her head. "You know your first blog post, after the fall when a Yaakov Holender commented and you said he sounded like Sherlock? That was Sherlock. I was Adrian Irvine, the one who told you Sherlock disappeared, well died then, for you. I thought maybe you'd make some connection with our names." She crossed her legs.

"Yaakov?" John tried to figure out the meaning.

"Old Hebrew for Hamish."

He smiled then bit his lip, "Right, your first son's name. Perfect" He crossed his arms. Not understanding that I was thinking about him, not Irene. "I thought you couldn't contact me? Were you two hunting Moriarty's people down together?" Anger.

"That's one hell of a team." Lestrade tipped his glass in my direction.

"I wasn't supposed to contact you. And no, we weren't working together."

"Don't worry John, only you can be his partner." I knew she wasn't referring to just business. Irene enjoys innuendo. "I only provided him with some leads and a couch as well when he was in near me."

"Sure you offered him the bed." Tight lips, jerky hand movements, and he hasn't taken his eyes away from Irene the entire conversation. Jealously. I've seen him this way before.

"Ha, of course." Irene stood back up. "I do have to get going and I'd like to leave you to your party." She touched my shoulder. "I guess I'll just have to take it and you won't follow me because you're trying to be a good host." She moved over to my mantle, picked up the skull, and took a flash drive.

"Don't tell me those are missile codes."

"Of course not, don't worry, it's not a national security risk." Irene kissed me on the cheek. "Happy Christmas."

"What is it?"

"I have to go to Russia now." She headed for the stairs.

"Irene!"

"Bye dear! See you soon." I thought about following but I stayed because she was right about her earlier deduction.

"Never a dull moment." Lestrade poured Molly a drink. They were going to be having coitus later.

"Why didn't you tell me you contacted me?" John moved closer, this was a private conversation that we were going to have in a room with others. "You could have emailed me, told me-I would have-"

"We've gone through this 3 times." I looked over to Mary and she was showing all the signs of jealousy too, like there was something going on between John and I. Maybe she thought that he was cheating with me, which is crazy. Or it might not be. She might be able to see the slightest attraction that we show each other. She doesn't need to worry about that though because he's convinced himself that being sexually attracted to me is wrong.

Since I've been back he's been sexually aroused 3 times with me and each time he is totally disgusted with myself within a matter of 30 seconds. I wish I were able to tell Mary not to worry because if she doesn't trust me she'll stop letting him come out on cases. I would probably find it enjoyable if we had a physical relationship but it's more important to me that I have him around for intellectual purposes and friendship. I can live without it as long as it means I can have John around because 2 years and 4 months without him was enough.

He nodded. "Yeah, yeah, ok." It wasn't ok.

"I wanted to tell you."

"Ok." He frowned and turned his back to me.

"Let's open the presents!" Mrs. Hudson said gleefully.

**John. Earlier in the day.**

"You moaned his name last night." Mary had her back to me as she finished wrapping the last of the presents while I was reading the paper in the living room. She spoke like it was weighing on her all day.

"What?" I knew exactly what she was talking about. I had a dream last night about him, the type of dream I really rather not be having. I haven't since he came back home.

"You actually moaned it, sounded like you were having a bloody good shag." She turned to me with a snap.

I could feel my face getting warm. "That's disgusting Mary, he's my best mate."

"Then stop saying his name in your sleep."

"What?"

"This isn't the first time. You do it a lot-you just never sounded like you were in the middle of a shag before. I thought it'd stop when he came back but it hasn't."

"I didn't-why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you get stroppy over him."

"You're my wife, aren't we supposed to talk about these things?" I folded up the paper and set it aside.

"John, you're painfully annoying when it comes to him. All you talk about is what Sherlock is doing, what he did, your cases with him then I say something and you snap…Don't you hear yourself when I make a small comment about how you mention him?"

"He's my best-mate." I cleared my throat. "If you want me to stop, tell me when I'm talking about him, I won't be an arse to you anymore, I promise."

"You love him so much." I could see tears welling in her eyes. "Why don't you stay there until you miss me like you missed him."

"Mary, don't-"

"You love him more than you'll ever love me."

"I love him in a completely different way." This was the first time I even said I loved Sherlock out loud to someone else-other than his headstone but that's not a person. "But I love you more than I'd ever love him." As the words left my mouth I could hear how insincere they were.

"I'm serious, you can stay at 221B tonight."

"Mary, it's Christmas."

She just shrugged.

"Don't be like this."

"Then stop and just admit it you're in love with your bloody best mate you arse!" She yelled.

"I'm not! Not like you're saying."

"Ok, ok…" She shook her head then wiped her eyes, "Let's go. I just need to fix myself."

"You're still going?"

"Your friends will talk."

"My friends aren't much for gossip."

"No, I'll have a few drinks then leave with a headache but you can stay."

"I'm not staying."

"I need you to. I need some space."

She did leave with her fake headache after a very uncomfortable two hours of trying to be happy. Once everyone headed home Sherlock and I took our former places in our chairs, "Why are you fighting with Mary?" Of course he knew.

"It's nothing Sherlock, can we talk about how you saved Irene?"

"I thought friends were supposed to talk about their problems." He took a drink of wine.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Is it about me?"

I swallowed hard. I can't have this conversation with him. It won't go anywhere.

"You don't have to come on cases with me anymore, it's ok." He smiled, one of his fake ones which he gives when he thinks he's helping me.

"No, no." I shook my head. "It is about you though."

Sherlock shot up from his chair, "I'm sorry." He began to pace.

It was quite for a few minutes, "When are you and Irene just going to elope?"

"You know full well I have zero sexual or marital interest in her. I enjoy her mind at times, she's quite fascinating but I'm not in love with her. She was very helpful with taking down the web too."

"I know I'm going to repeat myself for the hundredth time and bore you but I wish you contacted me while you were away."

He stopped in front of me.

"Not as Yaakov."

"Oh. I know."

"It's ok, you don't have to say anything else."

"I assume you're staying the night?"

"Yeah, I'll take me old bed."

"Um, you might want to rethink that. Not that you're not welcome to spend the night because that would-nice, very nice but you're bed is…"

"What'd you do to my bed Sherlock?" I sighed.

"I need the springs for an experiment."

"You tore it apart?

"Yes. You can stay in my bed."

Yeah, that'll be great to sleep a few inches from the man I love and the one I tell everyone and myself that I don't and the one my wife kicked me out of the house over. "Sure?"

"It's a large enough bed. Plus I can't seem to shake the chill out of the flat so body heat could come in handy tonight."

"You will sleep with clothes on?"

He looked like it'd be a hard task. In my subconscious he never wears clothes in bed-or many other places but I can't have that in real life. "Yes."

"Ok then."

"I'm knackered from all this wine, I'll see you in bed."

I took a few minutes to collect myself because hearing him say, 'I'll see you in bed', threw me off a bit. This was probably a horrible idea on my part, I could sleep on the sofa and it'd fine. I'd probably be tired but that's ok. My back would hurt.

I would be fine sleeping in his bed, its not like we're going to have sex. What if he wants to have sex? Would I? This is stupid. I just want to go to sleep. He's been in my bed plenty of times and nothing happened. I could go back home but I really don't feel like arguing anymore with Mary. It's ok.

I went into my old room to see if I could scare up some clothes I may have left behind. It was covered into remnants of my mattress as well as 4 crash test dummies and various papers and books. In the dresser I found an old worn rugby shirt and shorts.

After I got changed I moved slowly to his room. I always liked how it smelt, his soap, cigarettes, and a lingering hint of citrus. He was lying on the right side of the bed sitting against the headboard with his laptop on his thighs. I always thought he slept on the left. I climbed and got into a position so my back was to him. A few minutes later he shut the light then put his laptop on the side table. "John?"

"Mmmhmm?"

"I've been thinking for sometime-" Oh great here it is, "Why does my coat make you upset? I see it on your face every time I wear it around you."

Oh thank god. But fuck, this wasn't a question I wanted either.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't talk because you probably want to sleep. But there is something about sharing a bed with someone that is intimate and makes you want to talk."

"No, no, it's fine. I'm not sure how to answer it."

"You don't have to then."

I rubbed my face before rolling over to look at him, "It's just that…Molly gave it to me after you jumped and I-" I was actually going to tell him this, "I used it every so often when I was really sad to...remember you."

I could see his blue eyes sparkle in the dark. "That's-good." Wrong word for him to use but I looked by it. "I just wondered. Would you like me to get another coat?"

"Of course not."

"Good because I rather like this one." He laughed. "Do you truly like being normal and married?"

"Yeah."

"So boring."

I took a deep breath. I had to do it once, just once and then I'd be done with it. It'd be out of my system and why not do it right now? So I leaned over and pressed my lips to his. He tasted like toothpaste with remnants of his wine, not tea and cigarettes like I had always imagined but his lips were as warm and soft as I had thought.

He was shocked. I was shocked with myself too.

I pulled away, "Um, good night then."

"Yes, ah, good night." He choked out.

It took me 2 more hours to fall asleep, it sounded like it took him about 20 minutes. I didn't have any sexual dreams about him and that's good because I'd hate to have him hear me call out his name.

The next morning I left before he woke up, there was no way we were going to have a discussion about it because Sherlock can't express his feelings so he'd say it was fine and that'd be that or it'd be very awkward. I walked home from Baker Street because I needed to think.

The day before felt like a bad dream but it wasn't. I really fought with Mary about Sherlock, Irene came back into my life and I guess that's not bad but strange, and then I kissed Sherlock.

I had to put it all behind me. If Sherlock loved me back we probably would have talked about it that night. So it's all sorted, no more thinking about him that way. Be happy with my wife and normal life.

"So you missed me more than you missed him?" Mary asked as I walk in the door.

I don't think I can bring myself to tell Mary how I truly feel about Sherlock so I lied, "Of course I did. I was going to come back in the middle of the night but I didn't want to scare you."

She smiled before kissing me. At least this row was over fairly quickly. "The reason I was freaking out is because I thought I was pregnant and then I heard you have that dream…I don't know, I just over reacted."

My stomach dropped. "You're not?"

"No, false alarm."

"Do you want to be?"

"Did you want me to be?"

"I don't know…we're getting a bit old for 'em aren't we?"

"I guess." She shrugged.

"If you were though I'd be thrill." Well that was a lie I didn't even want to say out loud, it sort of just fell out of my mouth.

As I was packing for her family's I realised I missed 221B more than I thought and I wanted to kiss Sherlock again, more and better. This wasn't good. I needed to stay away from him and the old flat for a while.


	15. Chapter 15

**Sherlock. February 4th, 2015.**

Since John kissed me the night of my Christmas drinks we haven't seen much of each other. I've tried to get passed it by asking him to accompany me to crime scenes but he's always busy. He came to the morgue only when Lestrade asked him a couple of times and then once for a pint with Molly after she and John finished work, I didn't tell her about the kiss but I'm sure she was worried about us not spending much time together. I suspect that John is worried that if we're alone together then we may have another go at a kiss-or more. Surely what Mary and John were fighting about that night had something to do with me and it provoked the kiss but he would never answer me about it. He says I don't like to talk about my feelings.

I would like him to kiss me again but I would never press for it. I think that the kiss would be much better a second time because I was not expecting him do it at the moment so I was unprepared. He didn't fall asleep that night for a very long time, I could hear him tossing and turning for hours. It must have been because he wasn't sure what was going to happen between us now because he should have slept soundly after a long day and I gave him the left side of the bed. I'm unsure if his problems sleeping were good or bad for me.

His avoidance of me makes me believe that he still has trouble understanding what he wants and how he feels towards me. I take some comfort in that because I've always had a hard time with my attraction towards John so this must be normal. If John is having the same emotions then it must be a good thing. Or it could be bad because neither of us have done much to act on it. Well I guess he did when he kissed me, I should have kissed him back.

These are such trivial things to think about when there are real problems that I could be solving.

I went on a walk around 10pm because I needed some fresh air, the apartment was too quiet and my mind was racing. I was bored and I needed a case but there wasn't anything, anything worthy of my time. I had asked Molly to bring over some ears but never had time to stop by. I suspected that it's because her and Lestrade have been spending a lot of time together. She referred to her and him as a 'we' the last time I stopped by the lab.

"'Eh Sherlock Holmes!" A large, inebriated man said as I approached a pub. He had just lit a cigarette. "Johnny's never introduced us! I'm Mitchell, one of his rugby mates."

"Oh, hello." I stopped in front of him.

"Have you come down to join us?"

"John's here?" I looked in the window.

"Yeah, you're welcomed to have a pint. No, no, I will buy you a pint. A pint for the man who rose from the dead." I hated when people spoke as if I was some type of messiah. "A pint for my mate's best friend."

John would tell me that it's rude to turn him down and I did want to see John because I've missed him, "Sure." I was still looking and the window and I couldn't find him.

"Let me finish this then I'll get you a drink."

"Oh, I'll take cigarette…if you don't mind." John has to be pleased with how I've been treating people better since I got back. I was very lonely for 2 years, sometimes people aren't all bad.

"Not at all." He was very happy to give one to me.

When we went into the pub we found the rest of his crew in the back corner of the bar. John was in the middle of the curved booth so I couldn't sit next to him like I wanted. Instead I had to pull up a chair to the table. He was happy to see me for a second then nervous. "Found 'em when I was out having a cigarette."

"Bored?" John folded his arms.

"Remarkably."

"You have cases pouring in-"

"Nothing worthy." I took a sip of my beer.

"Ugh you git, there has to be something."

"Let 'em be John." Mitchell protested as if he were my friend. "Sure it's tough being the world's only consulting detective genius."

John rolled his eyes.

I was introduced to the rest of the group. Alcoholic Ben, cheating on his wife Nick, wife is cheating on him Liam, city boy with a drug problem Gareth, living with his parents still Rupert, and fairly normal and boring Mitchell who was just dumb. They all asked me a million questions while John sat in silence for the most part. I didn't mind answering their questions about cases because it made John look like he was enjoying me being nice to his other friends. I did hold back my deductions when they asked because I knew that John wouldn't like it all that much. The entire night each of them bought me drinks as we spoke-except John of course. I was rather sloshed by the end of the night.

"How are you getting home?" John steadied me with his hand. He was very close to me as we stood outside the pub; the rest of his mates had left.

"Walking."

"You'll be arrested for public intoxication." He looked down the way.

"I'm not nearly as drunk as I can be."

"Take a cab, yeah? Get home safe. Plus every officer out there would love to arrest you."

"How are you getting home? Does Mary enjoy it when you come home pissed? I'm sure she doesn't let you have sex with her then. Though I'm not sure if you're up to after a night of drinking. I don't think you get drunk that much though because your sister and father. You're very good at controlling yourself most of the time, with the exception of the 2nd anniversary of my suicide."

"You have even less of a filter when you're pissed." He was still looking to the street.

"I'm very sharp, sharper than everyone else when I'm drunk. I enjoy being drunk though it doesn't open my mind as other drugs, it does a very good job at quieting things down. It's much cheaper as well."

John looked sad before he finally hailed a cab. "We'll share."

I slid into the cab after John. "One us is going out of the way. We live on opposite sides of the city."

"I'll stay the night." He paused. "On the sofa."

"Yes, of course. Shall we get takeaway when we get back? The hypothalamus controls appetite and alcohol tends to interfere with it."

"Sure, why not."

My felt very fuzzy and my mouth was dry, "I need some water."

"We'll get some when we get home."

It was silent until John started laughing.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing, just thinking about how you acted so normal with my mates. I can't believe you ran into us, what a small world."

"Well-"

"Don't get scientific on me now."

"Right, I won't."

When we got back to 221B John called Mary and told her that he was staying on Mitchell's couch because it was closer to the pub while I ordered takeaway. It was weird to me that he was lying to his wife; did she really not want John to be around me at all?

**John.**

If I didn't lie to Mary she was going to be irate with me but in this last month and a half I've been having what seemed to be Sherlock withdrawals. It wasn't like before, when I thought he was dead because I was reminded everyday that he was alive now. I was yearning for Sherlock. I don't yearn. I've never yearned before. But that one kiss left me desperate for more and for better. When I saw him walk into the pub with Mitchell was relieved.

Now here we were, alone and drunk on Baker Street. I don't know what I was thinking.

He was on this floor with his knees bent and his back pressed to the rug, his eyes closed. "What are you doing?" I sat next to him.

"I like being in the position when drunk. Do you know your limp is back? This is probably because you haven't been spending time with me."

I sighed.

"You have no adventure with Mary. Mary is plain and boring. You're not boring though."

"I thought I was."

"You're complex, like why are you lying to your wife, very interesting? Your psychosomatic limp. Your ability to kill a man without question. Interesting. You're very unassuming though. Interesting." His eyes fluttered open. "Do tell me, why are you lying to Mary about being here? At our Christmas party I believed she was jealous of me. You were showing jealousy towards Irene, like normal-your predictably is somewhat boring."

"Sherlock, stop."

"I'm just trying to understand."

"You don't have to understand everything." My voice was louder than it should have been.

"I haven't understood my attraction to you in these past 5 years!" He sat up. For 5 years I've been avoiding this conversation. Who knew he'd start it? "I do understand almost everything of importance but that-but you and I'm going to go crazy soon. It normally only takes me seconds, minutes, hours, or maybe days to learn a new concept but it's been 5 years and I still don't understand you or how you make me feel."

"You're drunk."

"I still know what I'm saying and you drive me mad, John Watson." His eyes were wide.

"You are mad. I should go." I went to stand but Sherlock grabbed me by the collar and kissed me hard. It was my turn to be shocked by a kiss but I got over it quickly and reciprocated.

He pulled away for a second to take a deep breath.

"For someone who isn't physically attracted to others you're very good at snogging." My hand reached up into his hair like I thought of doing a million times.

"For someone who's been very firm to say that he's not gay you don't have a problem with kissing another man."

"You don't know anything about kissing, sure this is your first real kiss so how do you know I don't have a problem with it?"

"I've taken your pulse and I can also feel that you're not tense." His index finger ran slowly across by right wrist. "I suspect that you're ok with kissing me." Sherlock pecked at my jaw.

"You're drunk-we're drunk." My hand dropped from his hair to his shoulder.

His lips brushed mine, "So you wouldn't do this is you weren't inebriated?"

"Probably not."

"Your inhibitions are lowered when drunk. That can be a very good thing." Sherlock pressed his lips to mine and this time it was a proper kiss where neither of us were shocked. I didn't think he could do anything without thinking and calculating his actions for it…well maybe he had thought about how to kiss like this but he was very good so I guess it doesn't matter.

His fingers played with the bottom of my jumper, "May I?" Sherlock was breathing heavily, his forehead leaning against mine.

"Oh, ah," The doorbell rang. Thank god.

"I'm not sure if I'm in an adequate state to answer the door with being drunk and now aroused." He sat back.

"I'll get it, it's fine." I took a second to collect myself then headed downstairs.

I should have just kept walking out the door because I had no idea what to do when I got back upstairs. Have another snog session? Have sex with him? Bad idea when we're both pissed. It was my own fault for coming to his flat in the first place, I knew how I felt about him and I've had suspicions about how he felt towards me so there shouldn't be any surprise.

Sherlock was sitting on the couch with his legs pulled to his chest. He really likes folding up his body for some reason. "You don't cheat." He spoke plainly with a hint of regret.

I set the bag on the table. "Isn't that what we were just doing?" I gestured to the floor. I didn't like that I wasn't filled with regret, only a small pang "What are you getting at?"

"You-you don't cheat on anyone, you're very honest. Why aren't you honest with Mary? You're more honest with people you don't like."

I sat next to him, "I don't know. It has something to do with you."

He smiled for a second then frowned. "Would you leave her to come back here?"

I looked down to my feet then up to his eyes, "The correct question you should ask is, 'would you leave her to come back to me'."

He turned his head towards the door. I could tell he was scared. I hated it when he was. "I miss you here." Sherlock had never spoke more softly or sincerely in his life. But he didn't say he missed me.

"Is that why you said that I drive you mad? Is that why you kissed me? Just because you want me on Baker Street? You don't want to be alone." He shrugged. "It's ok if it is."

"I don't know. I'm very tired, sorry about the food, whatever you don't eat you can put in the refrigerator and take the money out of my wallet for it." This was just like him, to go running off when things began to get difficult and he wasn't sure what to do or say.

No matter what, Sherlock was always going to be Sherlock. He was always going to be afraid of feelings and physical relationships. His mind wasn't built like the rest of the world's. My body's want for Sherlock needs to be thwarted by my mind's realisation that he could never love me and want me like I seem to love him and want him. I need to get over it.

The next morning I woke up and headed home to Mary who had breakfast ready for me. Nothing changed with us but something changed for Sherlock and I. We went back to what was normal and I helped him on cases-only during the day. He came over once for dinner with Molly and Lestrade.

I've repressed those feelings for him enough to be who we were before I kissed him on Christmas. He seems a bit sadder but he's happier than he was when I wasn't working with him according to Molly. Plus he has loads of cases to keep him busy.

Mary and I were ok. That's the most important thing.

Everything was all right.


	16. Chapter 16

**John. May 20th, 2015.**

"Oh good, you're here." Sherlock was rummaging through drawers in his room.

"What it is? You said to come at once."

"I'm going away."

"On holiday? " I made a face of confusion. Sherlock doesn't do holidays.

"No, to help Irene with a small problem." He spoke like I should know as he fished out a passport.

I picked up a piece of paper that had fallen out with it, "What's small?" The paper had my name on it so I tucked it in my pocket for later.

"She has an issue with one of the people she's dealing with and needs a second person that they don't know."

"There are people in the world that don't know you?"

He rolled his eyes, "Of course there are John. Not everyone reads your blog. I should say read because you never write anymore."

"What's the problem?"

"Something with money."

"You're so vague." I sat on his bed next to the black suitcase. I wondered if that's what he lived out of for 2 and a half years.

"I could go into detail but you'd be mad at me."

I got concerned, "Could you die?"

"There's a chance of death for everything." He spoke condescendingly.

"Sherlock."

"Not much of one, I'll be ok. You could come but I don't think Mary would be happy about it."

"Where are you going?"

"South Africa. Johannesburg."

I picked up his passport, "A French passport."

"That's the one I-used-um…"

"Right, I never thought about how you got around those years." I thumbed through it to find all the stamps it had collected.

"J'ai dû feindre pour être français."

"Huh?"

"I pretended to be French."

"Oh, right." I put the passport back. He was nearly done packing. "How long are you going to be gone?"

"Hopefully no more than a week or two."

"You'll call or email at least. Just so I know you're alive."

"Yes, of course."

"Don't say of course because you left for 2 years and I didn't hear a thing."

"I had my reasons, John."

I bit my lip, "You had me come over to say good bye didn't you?"

"Yes." He zipped the bag. "I thought it'd be the decent thing to do because the last time I left for work I disappeared."

"Well you're not now."

"I'll be back soon."

"Will you marry Irene while you're away?" I teased him.

"No, I couldn't marry her-anyone but-no…" He blushed.

"Ah huh."

"Goodbye John." He held out his hand for me to shake but instead I hugged him. It felt like the right thing to do. "Don't worry, I'll be back soon and we can go back to solving more cases."

"Alright then, have a safe trip."

After he left in a cab for the airport I sat up in the old flat and unfolded the note I had nicked.

_My Dearest John,_

_ I miss you terribly. I wake up in the morning wishing that you were here by my side. Finding Moran would be easier with your help as you are my muse. I want to be able to touch you like I never had to chance to do. I was so frightened, for once in my life I was unsure of what to do. I was hoping that you would want it too and just start it. You made me see the beauty in normalcy and that is a tremendous thing. Though you are not necessarily normal. While out here travelling the world and working on my own I miss our nights of tea, dinner, and movies. I miss waking up in the morning and going over cases with you. I never thought I would be able to miss anything as I miss you. I hope you can forgive me for leaving you like this but there was no other option. Moran was going to kill you if I were alive so before I am able to see you again or start my life again he needs to be dead. I hope this won't take much longer because the sooner it's over the sooner you are truly safe and I also get to be back to normal with you._

_ I Love You, Sherlock_

I reread the note 10 times over. By the looks of the paper he'd read it a hundreds of times, it was so creased and worn some of the words were hard to make out but I figured them.

There they were, Sherlock's actual feelings with no bull and no trying to talk his way out of them with extra words that don't mean anything. Why was he carrying it around and not giving it to me? He must have wrote it at some point during the time I thought he was dead because of the language and it was in his fake passport. Why did he read it so much? Was it his version of the coat? Some type of comfort.

_My dearest John. I love you._

I felt stupid then I felt as excited as a schoolgirl.

I ran home to pack and told Mary that Sherlock and Irene needed my help in South Africa. She was fairly annoyed by it but then told me I was in need of a holiday. I should have told her what I was actually going to do but I didn't have the guts, I was going to need to find them before I came home.

I called Mycroft on the way to the airport, "What hotel is you brother staying at?"

"Oh John, you never call me. This is a nice surprise."

"Mycroft!"

"Ok, one moment…"

I've never done a thing like this on a whim. I reread the letter about 8 more times to calm myself down and show myself that I'm making the right choice.

**Sherlock.**

"Where is it?" I skimmed through my passport.

"Where is what?" Irene sat on my bed.

"Nothing, nothing!" I tore my clothes out of the suitcase.

"Sherlock-"

"Leave!" I demanded.

"Ok." She was out the door in seconds.

I was missing the letter to John I had wrote him almost 3 years ago. I like carrying it on me when I'm away. I like reading it when I'm alone at night. I don't know where I had put it. It's stupid that I need it this bad. I've been fine without John being mine why do I need the note where I declare my love for him?

After about an hour of searching I tried to nap. Much later there was a knock on my door; it had to be Irene looking to see if I was ok because she looked worried earlier. To my surprise John was standing there with the biggest smile on his face like he just figured everything out he'd ever been confused about, "Ah, you decided to come." I was happy to see him myself.

He moved closer to me, dropped his bag, and then his lips were on mine. I've only had a minimal amount of time kissing him but I've noticed recently that I was missing it. He was making up for it now though. I'm not sure why he's suddenly changed his mind on kissing.

Our height difference was a bit of a problem as I had to dip my head down and John was almost on his toes but it worked nicely when he moved his lips down to my neck because neither of us had to make accommodations. He nibbled at the clavicle then licked at the hollow of my throat. I enjoyed that.

I blindly led us back to the bed because if I didn't sit I was sure my knees would give out plus I wanted to kiss John without craning my neck.

He perpetually tastes like tea, no matter what he's been consuming. At least that's what these 3 encounters had led me to conclude. His lips are small but adequate. His tongue was soft and hot, very good at teasing my own. His hands liked to go up into my hair to tug at it, which I enjoyed very much. I could feel John's heart racing in his chest when I moved my hand down. I could hear my own in my ears.

"Sherlock." He pulled away, still smiling. "I need to talk to you about something before this goes anywhere else."

"Did you leave Mary?" This was the only possible explanation for him being here.

"Um, no." John tensed up for a second but then relaxed after pulling out a piece of paper. I knew what the paper was.

Before he could open the note I grabbed it, "Where'd you get this? Did you go rooting around my things? Does Mycroft think I'm using drugs again?"

"No, it was on the floor when you were packing. I thought it was nothing but it had my name on it so I opened it." He brushed back my hair, which just bounced back into the same position.

"It's-"

"Don't say it's nothing because Sherlock, it's everything that I've been wanting to hear from you but I didn't think you could articulate yourself that way." He threw back his head in a laugh. "I honestly didn't think you had feelings most time. You love me?"

I chewed on the inside of my cheek. I never thought about having to say it out loud to John, writing it was enough.

"It's ok, you don't have to say it. But you have to tell me when you wrote it."

"October 5th, 2012. I was in Florence, Italy after I killed the 2nd person of my 12. I was drunk and smoked half a pack of cigarettes and wrote maybe 20 other letters because I wanted to tell you all about it. I read the letter at least once a week. I never felt the way I was feeling for you when I was away. It was very scary. I thought maybe I could get it down on paper so I could maybe see it. I still don't understand." I put my hand over my face.

He seemed upset, "You don't have be scared."

"But you're scared." I pointed out to him what he already knew.

"Because loving you-it-it would be so hard because you are so different from anyone else. I can't treat you like I treat Mary or any other woman I had dated. I have no idea what to do with you. You're a bloke too so there's that…" He leaned his forehead on my shoulder. "But if you want to do this then we'll figure it out together. I'll probably end up working out most of it but that's fine."

"I-I think that it would be-" Nice? Good? Tremendous? Magnificent? Favourable? Pleasurable? I wasn't sure what else to say so I lifted his chin and pressed a kiss to the corner of his lip.

"Ok, ok, we can do this."

"I know." I snickered.

"Oh stop it." He used his weight to push me back into the bed. "You don't know."

"Well I can learn."

"You have so much to learn. You have zero knowledge about relationships or sex." John's hands covered mine then on instinct it seemed my fingers intertwined with his. He liked this because he rewarded me with a kiss.

"Are we going to have sex now?"

John blushed.

"I thought that this was a natural progression."

"No, no, it is bu-"

"Mary? John, you've hardly been loyal to her. You just flew down to South Africa on a whim to declare your love for me."

"You make everything sound so dramatic." He rolled off of my body and on to his side to look over me.

"You're the one that's dramatic, you could have called or texted me. You didn't have to drop an enormous amount of money just to tell me your feelings and snog me a bit. You're very much a romantic."

"You wrote me a love letter."

"We're not talking about me, John."

"Do you want to have sex?"

"I can live without it as I have. I'm just surprised because I just thought that was something you would like to do after flying so far to see me after reading my letter and finally talking about our mutual feelings. You are very sexual even for a man who is no longer in his peak."

He rolled over and laughed into the mattress.

"What did I say?"

"Nothing, never mind. I'm so tired, can we go to sleep?"

"John, what was it?" I questioned him as he climbed under the duvet.

"If you did want to sleep with me tonight then you shouldn't have said, a man who is no longer in his peak." I could tell he wasn't offended as his words were trying to say.

"But we are sleeping together." I curled up to his side.

"You're insufferable, you know that."

"Which you're attracted to."

"I'm not attracted to that part of you." He moved closer to me and played with my hair.

"What parts then?"

"I don't know, the parts I like."

"I know you like when I smile at you. You enjoy when I explain a case to you so you don't have to guess about it. You like that I'm adventurous. You're physically attracted to me."

"See I don't need to tell you anything."

"I'm sure there's more."

"There is."

"Then tell me."

"There can be some mystery."

"I like solving things."

"Solve me, you're going to have plenty of time for that now." He yawned, his eye lids were heavy.

"Goodnight John."

"'Night."

It only took me 3 days to clear up Irene's little problem. John spent the time I was working exploring about the city. At night we would go to dinner and everything was like how it was before the fall except we kissed every so often and when we slept we tangled out limbs together. So it was better than before.


	17. Chapter 17

**John. May 24th, 2015.**

I stood in front of the door to my flat. After 3 days in South Africa, living in basic bliss with Sherlock I had to return to reality. This was the main reason I've avoided my feelings for Sherlock since he's returned. I never thought I would have to go through a divorce because as Sherlock has said to me before I'm honest, loyal, and mundane. But here I was, Mary had no clue that I was going to walk in the door and break her heart.

I found her in the living room, "Oh, you're home sooner than I thought." She smiled at me while crossing the room. "How was it?" She searched my face, "What happened?" She looked scared. "Is he ok? Did someone die? Are you alright?"

I couldn't get the words out of my mouth.

"John, say something!"

"Sherlock and I-we…we've kissed, ah-" Bloody hell this was the toughest thing I've ever had to explain. "I love him-I've always loved him and I found something from him that showed me that he could love me like-"

"Fucking Christ!" She slapped me hard. "I knew it! I knew it before. Why didn't you tell me when I asked you?" Mary stepped back, tears filling her eyes. "After all those times…"

"Because I couldn't-" I didn't want to say it to her.

"Couldn't what, you arse?"

"I couldn't have him."

"So you settled for me?" She laughed nervously. "Now you can have him so you're going to break my heart? Leave me for the virgin consulting detective genius that has no feelings. How do you even connect with that!"

"I just-I do and I'm so sorry Mary, I am." What else could I possibly say?

"You're 41 now John and suddenly you want to start shagging blokes?"

"It's not about shagging." I can't even articulate exactly what I want from Sherlock. I don't even really know.

"Yeah? Bet you haven't yet. Even though you've been away in a foreign country with him." Her words dripped with sarcasm.

"I haven't had sex with Sherlock."

"Why because you were holding on to some loyalty to your wife?"

"I didn't want to do anything like that until I told you."

"You kissed him and you slept in the same bed as him I assume. Jesus, when you talked about your life before me and before he threw him self off the hospital, I should have known. You were basically married! He scared off your dates." Mary rubbed her cheeks.

I stayed silent.

"Thank god I never got pregnant."

"I would-"

"Have lived a lie the rest of your sodding life? Like you would have any way if you didn't find out whatever it was to make you see that Sherlock-" She couldn't finish the sentence.

"Then I would have been happy to live the rest of my life with you."

"Shut up John! You can't be a good guy anymore."

I just watched her rocking back and forth on her heels. She looked like I had run her over.

"You would have lied to me every day. When he was gone, why couldn't you admit to me that you loved him?"

"Because I never got to tell him."

"Because you didn't have any balls. I'm surprised you found them! Glad you told him after we've been married for 2 years now. We just had our anniversary."

"I wish I did say something."

"This is crazy John."

"I know." Loving Sherlock is the craziest thing I've done in my life.

"We'll file tomorrow-for divorce."

I winced at little at the word 'divorce'.

"Get your things and leave." She was teetering on the edge of breaking down into tears. "I'm going-going out and I don't want to see you when I come back."

"I'm sorry, again…so sorry."

"Stop apologising John." Her voice trembled.

"I don't know what else to do."

"You already did everything you could. There's nothing else either of us can say right now. I'm going to Janie's." Mary shook her head then left.

I collected my things, which to my surprise fit into my 2 suitcases and one brief case. I guess I never truly settled into my married life like I thought I did. I'm sure Sherlock picked up on it when he came over.

When I got back to Baker Street I collapsed down on to the couch, leaving my things in the middle of the living room. Even though I didn't go through the knock down, drag out fight like I assumed we were going to have it was still mentally exhausting to leave the life I believed I was going to always have and shattering someone's heart.

"Good you're here! I was worried Mary was going to kill you, people commit so called crimes of passion in these situations." I heard Sherlock breeze through the door from his room then a loud thump.

I sat up to find him on the floor.

"You can't just leave things in the middle of the flat." He kicked one of the suitcases.

"You're lecturing me on cleanliness, no way." I scoffed as he stood back up to join me on the couch.

His fingers tapped on my knee like he was trying to talk to me through code. "How'd she take it?"

"Do you honestly care?" I relaxed into the cushions.

"No but from watching TV and reading books this is what I'm supposed to ask."

"You've been studying up on relationships?" This shouldn't surprise me at all.

"Well I'd like to do my best."

"You can't learn about relationships, really, through that stuff. You have to just sort of go with it."

"And I assume you can't learn about sex through porn if we're going off your reasoning…" His fingers formed a pyramid under his bottom lip.

"You've been watching porn?" I laughed sharply.

"I just opened your laptop and there was a site…with gay porn, I assume you've been wondering what it entails as well."

My cheeks were burning. "That wasn't on my computer, you were rifling through the history."

"Does it really matter how I found it?"

"Yes!"

"Why were you watching it, were you curious if you were attracted to all men or just me? You should stop worrying about that because it shouldn't matter if you're interested in men or women, I don't understand why this world needs to be so focused on this," He waved his hand between him and I.

"Us?"

"No, sexual orientation."

"Because it's just that way."

"Sexual identity shouldn't be a shocking thing. I mean there are aspects of sex that I presume are shocking but if you're homosexual, heterosexual, bisexual-whatever. As long as you have a consenting partner of legal age what's the shock about?"

"Well people will find it shocking when they find out their favourite virgin consulting detective is shagging his best mate/flat mate/whatever else we are."

"Well you're mine." I've never been happier to hear anyone call me theirs before. I would normally protest at being someone's property but being his wasn't all that bad. It felt right because I was his and he was mine. I never thought I'd hear Sherlock say something like that. "Also they thought we've been in a relationship all along if you don't remember. We haven't shagged yet, just kissed." Then he ruins the moment, "Are you busy we can do it right now?"

"It doesn't feel right, right now."

He didn't understand.

"I want it to be special. You can't just ask if I'm busy then we do it."

"Ugh, romantic."

"So what? I want it to be good, really good and right now, I can feel it, it's not the right moment." Truth was I just couldn't go through any more emotions today. I also didn't want to remember the first time I slept with Sherlock as the same day I broke Mary's heart.

He made a whiny noise. He sounds like a child sometimes. "Do we need candles or something?"

"Trust me and no there doesn't need to be candles."

"Fine." He raised his eyebrows. "Let's snog then." Sherlock liked kissing me. For so long I never thought he'd like things like that. Maybe he thought of it as some type of experiment. Anyway he's full of surprises.

"Not now Sherlock." I rested against him.

"Did I do anything wrong?" He felt tense for a second.

"No, I'm just not in the mood for being kissed or touched like that right now."

"Mary?"

"Yes because Mary." I nuzzled his neck.

"Tea?"

"Just sit here with me."

"Me just being here is-"

"Yes, its good if you're just here. Can you sit still for a while for me?"

"Can I get a book?"

I laughed, "Yeah, of course."

I sat there actually cuddled against him in silence while he read his book for a long time. I thought about moments like this before, not just after I thought he was dead but during those quiet days we had sat around the flat in silence. I thought snuggling with him on the couch would make a relaxing day ever better. I didn't think I could feel this content though. It was like nothing could ever go wrong.

I don't even remember the exact point when I started to fall in love with Sherlock. That's probably because I was trying to force myself not to feel that way. I can't even remember when I was trying to suppress it. I'm sure he knows the very moment I had the chemical reaction of love. I hope he knows that this isn't purely chemical. He must because he was so scared to tell me. He's still scared. These last 4 or how ever many days it has been he's been careful and timid every so often, like he's going to hurt me or himself if he makes the wrong move or says the wrong thing.

"I think we should eat." Sherlock announced, pulling me out of my relaxed and almost unconscious state.

"You're going to eat?"

"I'm not hungry but it's about time for you to have dinner after you didn't eat lunch today."

"You're not on a case, you're eating." It was bad enough he didn't eat when he was working.

"I need a case."

"We just finished one." I kissed his jaw. "Aren't you tired from travelling?" I buried my fingers in his hair.

"I had kip when you were at Mary's." He finally put his book down.

"Short rest and you're at it again."

"Well of course, do expect me to stop?"

"No, I'm just exhausted. I have no idea where you get your energy from."

"You've also been dealing with far more emotional stress than I have which can lead to fatigue."

"Yeah, I'm going to make dinner." I finally moved from the couch after what felt like hours.

While I was cleaning up after we ate Sherlock looked at me critically, "What is it?"

"Would it be all right if I slept naked tonight? I find that more comfortable but if we're sharing a bed that I thought I should ask."

Sherlock and I still haven't done more than snog for a few minutes at a time and we've kept all of our clothes on with our hands in decent places. I have seen Sherlock naked at various times sharing a flat with him because he finds clothes unnecessary some times. But we're never close together. Over the last few nights I've learned Sherlock likes to snuggle in bed-totally shocking-so this is something else I have to think about.

"I won't then, it's fine." He gave me a crooked smile.

"I didn't even answer you."

"You looked uncomfortable." Sherlock hugged me from behind, surprising me a bit. He hasn't initiated too many of our physical encounters so far.

"Maybe just keep your pants on for now?"

"That is an acceptable agreement."

So we fell asleep that night entangled together, him in his expensive silk underwear and me in my flannel and cotton. He couldn't be anymore different than me but somehow I love him.


	18. Chapter 18

**Sherlock. May 29th, 2015.**

We have yet to have sex and the blame is around 50/50. Maybe more 75/50 and the 75% would represent myself.

**May 24th:** John had a very emotional day, leading to fatigue. He also said it didn't feel right, breaking up with Mary and such. After sitting in silence most of the day we had dinner then fell asleep in his new bed I bought for him. I like being in John's room better than my own.

**May 25th:** Lestrade called with a case an hour after I woke up and I worked on it all night into the next morning. John had fallen asleep around 1am on the sofa.

**May 26th:** Spent most of my day on the case. Solved it around 10pm. John went out with his rugby mates and came back pissed around 12am and passed out fairly quick in my bed.

**May 27th:** John worked an 8-hour shift at the clinic, waking up before me. We went to dinner after he came home. We kissed on the sofa for 20 minutes after and I gave him a 'love bite' right where his shirt collar normally falls. He said he was too old for one but seemed to enjoy the process. I rather like snogging John. I don't think about much else aside from him. I find that interesting and strange. I also like finding out what he enjoys and what he doesn't. I always thought sex and relationships were bothersome, it many years to find out that my previous deduction was untrue-well aside from the sex because I'm still unsure. At 9pm John went to take a shower and before he finished I had fallen sleep waiting for him. Must have been from 2 days without sleeping.

**May 28th:** Spent the day at the lab with Molly while John was at work, I was waiting for another case from Lestrade but never received a call. I made dinner for John and afterwards I thought that John would see it as being the right moment. He did see it fit. We were very close to a state of undress when I had a sudden wave of anxiety. What if sex ruins everything? I haven't had it my whole life and it hasn't been apart of our relationship. So what if it just messes everything up? What if he leaves me because of it? He spent the rest of the night trying to calm me down. He assumed that the physicality overwhelmed me but that wasn't really true. I just didn't know how to tell him that.

We were sitting in the kitchen having breakfast, "Anything planned for today?" John asked me.

"Maybe run some experiments." I was dying for a case and he knew.

"Think you can put it off?"

"To do what?"

He was very happy with himself, "We're going out to the country side."

"Where to?"

John shrugged.

"Why? What if Lestrade calls me?"

"We can always come back. Pack an overnight."

"Why though?" I pressed.

"For a genius detective you're pretty shite sometimes." He grinned.

I begrudgingly packed my things and littered him with questions the entire time. John had arranged for one of Mycroft's drivers to take us to the village of Greatham in West Sussex. Sure I'll end up having to repay my brother for it.

"Why are we here?" I looked around as we retrieved our bags. An old bed and breakfast was the only building around us. "Is there a case out here you're not telling me about?"

"No. Beekeeping."

I couldn't hold back a smile. My interest in apiculture is something that John does not understand but he seems to get enjoyment out of my diversion to it.

"But why?"

"I thought it'd be something nice to do." He opened the door. "You're not on a case, I don't have work-" the elderly woman greeting us cut him off. She had a bad hip like Mrs. Hudson. Her husband was the beekeeper who was currently out of town at the moment. Probably seeing their daughter who lives in Dublin. John's face fell when he heard this. I'm not sure why, I know perfectly enough on my own.

It was raining so we settled into our room. "I'm sorry about the beekeeper not being here." He sat on the edge of the bed, taking off his shoes.

"It's fine. I'm sure we can go take a look later on." I sprawled out on the bed.

"As long as it stops raining."

"It should by later in the afternoon." I ran my hand up his spine, under his jumper. There was a slight chill in the air for a day in late May so it wasn't too odd for him to have it on. It was his favourite oatmeal cable knit one, I was glad he was wearing it because it makes me feel comfortable for some reason seeing him in it. It's honesty dreadful to look at though.

For the hand on his back I received a nice humming noise then he moved so he was lying partially on top of my body. "Sherlock, are you sure you want to have sex? After what happened last night."

"Oh, no, I do, I want to." I nodded.

"What's wrong then?"

I put my hand over my face. I've never been one for talking about my feelings. It's mostly a waste of time and energy. "What if sex ruins us?" I sighed. "We got on a few years before without it and now…"

"Now we're a couple." John brushed his fingers along my hairline. "Look, if you don't want to I think I can do without it. I don't know, figure something out."

"But that's not what I want." I stood up, out of the bed. I was getting frustrated with this conversation.

"Tell me what's wrong with you then."

"I did. What if it ruins everything? I don't want-want to…lose you." I kept my back to him.

John grabbed my hand and pulled me back down onto the bed to sit. He plotted himself right next to me, with a firm grip on my right hand. He was trying to find the right thing to say. "Look me in the eyes," I did so. "I'm not leaving you, ever ok? I know how manic and crazy you can get and I know you're impossible and insufferable but for some reason I don't mind. You're a crap flat mate too but I don't care. Over 2 years without you in my life was enough. I don't think I can survive another day without knowing that I'm going to be going home to you. I don't know why I love you but I do." He stroked my cheek. "I'm never leaving you."

My stomach felt light. John has such an odd affect on my body. I needed to tell him some thing, I can tell him what I feel because it's the same thing that he said for the most part. "I won't leave you again either."

"You better not you git." He took my face in his hands and kissed me hard, with possession. He forced me to lie back on the bed, climbing on top of me while never leaving my lips.

John pulled away to make work of my shirt, at the 4th button I asked him, "This is that moment you were talking about? I know I'm not as 'in tune' with feeling as you are but I would say this feels very right."

John laughed, "Shut up." He discarded of my shirt then splayed his hand over my abdomen, running it up my chest then back down and to my navel. He was in disbelief as if he never thought he'd touch me. He didn't do this the night before. We were rushing it a bit but not today, this was nice.

This was something I never knew I wanted until it started to happen-much like the rest of my relationship with John.

**John.**

I looked down at Sherlock's pale white skin underneath my fingers. This was real. This wasn't a dream. I didn't take him here just to sleep with him. I thought it would be a nice little get away without work. I don't think Sherlock had ever taken a break. I thought he was going to be annoyed with me taking him out of London for something that didn't involve work but he seemed to be happy about it.

Sherlock reached up, peeling off my jumper and the shirt underneath it. I studied his face as we just looked at each other for a long moment: raised brows, parted lips, flaring nostrils, pupils dilated, and wide open eyes. All the signs of attraction, I think that was a good deduction and he'd appreciate it but I keep it to myself because he pressed his lips to my neck. The function of talking felt lost. Also if I started then he might deduct the entire experience and take everything out if it.

He used his body weight to flip us over so he was straddling me once we both got rid of the rest of our clothes. Sherlock ran his tongue over my right ear lobe before biting and pulling at it lightly; he repeated the action to the other ear because I'm sure he knows by now how much I enjoy it. Soon I found him kissing his way down my body. As much as I wanted it I never honestly expected that this would happen, especially so early in our physical relationship, Sherlock giving pleasure to someone while not receiving anything while doing it. Sherlock doesn't do anything for anyone. Well except for me.

He nipped at my hip, bringing me back into the moment. Sherlock was looking up at me with those stupid unearthly blue eyes as if he knew that I wasn't paying attention to what he was doing. He seemed hurt so I reached down to bury my fingers in his dark hair then smiled to encourage him that he was doing everything right and I was enjoying it. Who knew Sherlock Holmes needed encouragement?

2 seconds after my smile his hand was gripping the base of my cock and my breath hitched. Clearly he didn't need much encouragement. Sherlock ran his thumb over the glans slowly then followed with his tongue as his hand slowly stroked me.

All of a sudden out of his slow moments his mouth was warm and wet all around me. It was perfect and sudden, "Holy shit, Sherlock." I moaned loudly then covered my mouth, remembering we were in a bed and breakfast.

His removed me from his mouth, making me whimper like a greedy arse. "The old lady has terrible hearing and we're the only ones here today." He said like I should have already known these facts before he licked his way up the shaft. He stopped to suck the underside of the head.

Sherlock is bloody fantastic at giving head for someone who has never done so before. The right amount of tongue and mouth and pressure and suction. Fucking science, no doubt.

He stopped for right before I was about to come and I wanted to hate him so much but he kissed me.

"John." Sherlock's voice sounded raw.

"What?" I wrapped my hand around him, drawing a noise I never heard from him before. I liked it so I stroked him lazily while he tried to form together his response.

"I'd like you to-to-" Continuing to surprise me, he was at a complete loss for words.

"Give you a blow job? Wank? Fuck?" Luckily I was well versed and this was shockingly easy for me to do with a bloke. Most likely because I've been wanting to do this with Sherlock for years.

"Intercourse, yes." He groaned as my hand tightened around his cock. "Now please."

"I-"

"There will be plenty of time for you to do other things to me, which are probably all running through your mind, over time but right now I'd like you that way-now."

I almost laughed at his request because he was so hesitant. I figured that wasn't a good idea at the moment. "Ok." I went to move off the bed to grab a condom and the lube out of my bag. Even though I wasn't planning it, I still came prepared.

"Where are you going?" He caught my arm, like he was afraid I was going to leave him there.

"Supplies." I said simply.

After retrieving the things from my bag I climbed back into bed with him, kissing his forehead. "I'd like to be able to look at you."

"Not an expert but I think we can manage." I rubbed his arm.

After some adjusting and a little debating (mostly him muttering and trying to figure out the best position for the most amount of pleasure for both of us) Sherlock was on his back with his knees bent and a pillow under his lower back. I was between his thighs, laying on top of him and pressing kisses into his jaw line. I'd be content with just kissing him forever, so cheesy and romantic. He'd probably make fun of me if I said it out loud even if he thought the same thing. There's just something nice and intimate about kissing him.

He moved his hips and our cocks rubbed against each other. There was a certain amount of want I could sense from his body so I moved a bit and grabbed the lube. I probably squirted too much on my fingers but I have heard the saying that there's never enough lube. I pressed my index finger into him slowly, afraid that I was going to hurt him. His face expressed enjoyment so I teased further. I twisted the finger, pulling it out before adding another.

It hit me all of a sudden that no one else has ever seen Sherlock this way: vulnerable, not in control, uncaring, in complete and total bliss. I was lucky. Special. He was here spread out like he was mine for the taking. He is mine. That's incredibly hot.

Once I felt that he was ready I tore the condom wrapper open with my teeth and grabbed more lube, hurrying as fast as I could because I was filled with this urge that I had to be in him as soon as possible. "Tell me, tell me if I need to stop." I looked him in the eyes.

"Of course." It sounded like he wanted to call me an idiot but he refrained.

I pushed into him slowly, taking my time even though I just wanted to be buried as deep as possible inside him as fast as possible. He expression was blank and his eyes were closed, I wasn't too sure what to do about that so I stopped and he eyes shot open, "What are you doing? Keep going." I listened. Fuck me, he felt amazing.

After feeling him out and taking some short, slow thrusts I started to build up a steady rhythm and he looked like he was starting to really enjoy it. He hooked his long legs around my back and pulled me closer so he could kiss me. I found my fingers of one hands in his hair, one day I'll ask him why I do that all the time. Sure there's a reason. My other hand slipped between us to stroke him.

Sherlock was making these soft noises that were driving me wild so I picked up my speed.

I wanted it to last forever but as we grew closer to the climax I was filled with anticipation to see Sherlock orgasm. I increased the pressure of my hand and he started to moan incoherently, I'm pretty sure part of it was in French then Russian. A few more thrusts and a few more pulls I was the first person to ever see Sherlock Holmes so alive as he came with a scream of my name. I followed right after the display.

I collapsed on top of him, breathing hard and sweating. "Was that good? Are you all right?"

"Mmm, yes, very." He hugged me tight.

I kissed his collarbone.

"I wasn't sure it'd be that good." Sherlock admitted after I pulled out and tossed the condom in the waste bin.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"I'm assume that's very basic sex."

"Oh god."

"What?" He looked at me funny when I crawled back into bed.

"I know that tone, you're going to start an experiment." I rolled my eyes. "Sex isn't something for you to scientifically look at. It's something to enjoy." Here I thought he could separate something from his work.

"I enjoy experiments, John, and I enjoy you. I don't see the big deal." He curled his arm around me.

"I don't know…"

"I won't share my results with anyone. Not even you if you don't want me to."

"Just a one man study?"

"Yes."

"Fine, whatever floats your boat." I pressed my body against his. I really should shower but I was too lazy for that.

"I won't be critical of you. If anything I'm going to be looking for what causes you the most pleasure and be critical on myself."

Then it dawned on me that this could potentially be the only way he could find an excuse for sex. Everything has to have some scientific reasoning behind it in order for it to be worthy of his time. "Yeah, ok."

"Good." He kissed my neck. "I quite liked that orgasm, much better than masturbating."

I was curious because I had thought about it before, "How often do you wank?"

"Not much, whenever there's an erection that won't go away on it's own."

"Mmm, ok." I nodded.

"Shall we shower? It stopped raining, I'd like to go take a look at the colony." I almost forgot that I brought him out here for the stupid bees.

"Let's just stay here for a few minutes."

"I could stay this way for, forever it seems." He rubbed soft circles into my stomach.

"Let's."

The End.


End file.
